


Lone Red Rover

by CrescentMoogle



Category: Underfell AU - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Identities, Ambiguous/Unconventional Relationship, Dissociation, F/M, Fluff, Gaming, Green/Kindness Souls, Humour, I can't stop him from badmouthing everyone, Money Troubles, Music, No Smut, Papyrus isn't as much of a dick as he seems, Sans is probably more of a dick than he seems, Self-Defence, Sibling Arguments, Soul stuff, Stalking, Swearing, all aboard the rollercoaster, blame sans, but a whole load of shenanigans, but there is no skeleton dick, enough fluff to smother a serif, minor abuse, monster racism, non-consensual soul stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrescentMoogle/pseuds/CrescentMoogle
Summary: Your name is Vespa Barrett, formerly Amy Barrett. Having recently returned to your roots - the city of Ebott - and settled into an apartment of your own, you are relishing the chance to learn to stand on your own two feet.The monsters, you didn't account for in your calculations...Not that you mind. Spontaneity is your middle name!





	1. Seven & Eight

**Author's Note:**

> During this fic, there will be regular switches in point of view from our Reader to our dear skeleton protagonist.  
> The switches will be indicated by ⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     You fiddle aimlessly with the pen of your drawing tablet, staring at the same patch of uncooperative pixels that you've been working on for hours. You zoom the screen out to study the brochure as a whole. The preliminary pages are looking great, but... You sigh. The image of the besuited gentleman on screen looks back at you over his glasses with more than necessary snark, in his perfect suit, refusing to fit into the page.  
     "You're lucky this pays well, you snobby piece of crap." You save and close the design application. It's alright if you come back to the magazine later; you were ahead of schedule with the job anyway. You tab over to your browser and carry on with the video you were watching in the background.

     Two days until the new Dream Drop game comes out. You aren't particularly looking forward to another generic crowd-pleaser game, but it's what the majority want, obviously, and it is your duty to the masses to play it. At least the soundtrack previews you have found are amazing.  
     You hit the volume on your speakers up a bit. You are already planning remixes for some of these tracks. The 8-bit bass reverberates through the suede cushions of the sofa beneath you and you can feel it more than hear it, flowing through your stiff muscles after a long day.

     You do enjoy working two jobs, keeping your overactive mind and hands busy, although you wish you didn't have to juggle things so much. Being a lesser Youtuber doesn't pay anywhere near as well as you'd like, in fact right now it hardly pays at all, so the graphic design job is a necessary evil. Your father is at the top of the high-end tailoring company you do graphic design for. That's an upside, not having to work for a finicky asshole. Or at least working for one you can get away with back-talking.

     Your phone pings, and you roll out of your comfortable position of soaking up the bass and lazily reach for your phone. It's your gaming editor.

      _ **Felix | 22:32** \- Yo. Amy. Boss. Darling. Sweetness. Working on Horizon pt.22. Editor ate the audio and spat it back out, file's fucked. U got the original?_

     You roll your eyes, open up Dropbox and locate the old audio file in the 'editing' folder. You delete it and drop the original version back in. He's an amazing editor, but he's also easily distracted.

      _ **Vespa | 22:33** \- It'll be up in a mo. You gotta back up your shit dude! Also it's weird when you call me Amy :|_

_**Felix | 22:33** \- Eh, thats what ur for right, Amy? ;)_

_**Vespa | 22:34** \- Gasp! You're just using me for my storage capacity  ><_  
_**Vespa | 22:34** \- You coming over tonight?_

     You sort of hope he says no. You could do with an early night. Early being before 3 a.m.

     The slam of the door to your neighbour's flat is audible over your music. They only moved in very recently, and though you've never met them, you already know they're assholes. Obnoxiously loud, even through the thick conjoining wall of your apartment. They probably aren't used to living in a condo, since they have no regard for their neighbours at all.  
     You turn your music down a notch, just in time to hear the usual daily shouting match begin. You can't often pick out what they're saying through the wall, but it's entertaining all the same.

     You swing your legs against the sofa and lie back again, stretching your arms and back out with a satisfying pop. The apartment you live in is pretty nice. You can just about comfortably afford the modern space on your dual income. The relatively small open-plan kitchen and living area are more than enough for you on your own, and you have two bedrooms, one of which is just used as storage space. You even have an en-suite on your room.  
     Beats living with your father anyway. The only downside is the proximity of the three other apartments on this floor. Namely, the one adjacent to yours. Whoever lives in Number 7 is the worst...

     Ping!

      _ **Felix | 22:41** \- I gotta get this vid done tbh. Can't spend all my time playing games like u, sorry babes ;)_

     Ah, great! So now you can just spend all your time play games until you pass out, like he said. Thanks for being the responsible one in this business, Felix. You tap out a reply.

      _ **Vespa | 22:41** \- Nvm, you're not missing much anyway aside from my gorgeous presence._

_**Felix | 22:42** \- I think I'll cope for tonight ;)_

     You put your clunky old laptop into sleep and pad over to your recording room, which is a haven of darkness and comfort, with a sci-fi looking number code lock on the door that you had fitted to protect your equipment. You consider it your safe room, mission control, the CPU of your home. A single covered window, soundproof padding on the walls, and all your gaming merch displayed on many shelves around the space behind the chair. The chair is a replica of the captain's seat from the Enterprise, there are three monitors on the curved desk, all your consoles sit on purpose-built shelving with coloured backlights, and your black and green computer tower stands beneath the desk.  
     Most of this was amassed roughly three years back, when you still lived with your father - when you had all the support you could ask for from him. Yeah, you were lucky to have a father who supported you, but you like it better now. To you, it feels better to be alone and free than trapped beneath the disapproving presence of your only parent.

     You shut the door behind you, plunging yourself into pleasant blue-tinged darkness. Pulling on your headphones, flicking the mouse buttons a bit, and taking your seat, you allow the pleather to envelop you gently. The computer comes back online with your wallpaper fading into view to show an alien from Mass Effect in all her bony-carapaced beauty. You might as well visit her on your ship. You boot up the game and wander around your vessel a long while, making idle conversation with shipmates, when something beneath the background noise of the game makes you take off your headphones.

     What is that? Music of some kind? You sigh with the effort of leaving the comfort and unlock the door, to be met with a wall of sound. It's coming from Number 7, of course. Who the hell plays rock music at nearly... you check your phone. Nearly 1am?!  
     Admittedly, they don't have awful taste. But still!

     You don't really feel like confronting asshole neighbours while you're in this state. Long, un-dyed hair fluffy and out of control, hazel eyes made dull by fatigue, fuzzy old oversized hoodie, vest top and loose-fitting pants. Not exactly the attire for making first impressions on new neighbours. Well, you couldn't really hear the music from inside your recording room anyway, so maybe you can just ignore it but... that isn't your style.

     You locate a pink post-it note and a thick pen from among your art supplies.

_Hey new neighbour!  
Nice music taste!  
Just an FYI, though -  
other people might  
not like it as much.  <3_

     That should do. Friendly, passive, and anonymous. You creep out into the hallway where the music is still audible, and put the post-it through Number 7's mailbox. They'll read it at some point.

     Hopefully they'll get the idea before some other, less kind resident decides to take action against them. You grin to yourself as you retreat to your apartment, quest complete.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     Shit. It's still early. I'm getting too good at this job. Papyrus will still be awake. Ah, well, it can't be helped. I exit the elevator and head to the apartment door, and I do my best to open it quietly, but it looks like Papyrus was waiting for me anyway.

     "Sans! I have a bone to pick with you!" His voice jars my nerves as always, running a stab of apprehension through my sternum. He's standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. How long has he been waiting? I huff and slam the door too hard. Oops.

     "What's up, boss?" I'm keeping my voice level and eyes trained on his perfectly polished boots. He clears his throat.

     "Today, I heard the most interesting thing. Word has it that that traitor Undyne has a skeleton doing her dirty work." His voice drips with disdain. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Sans?"  
     Well shit, who gave the game away? I've been trying so hard to keep it quiet. Threatening pathetic idiots who cross Undyne and her mob pays good money, and it keeps the local human gangs in line too.

     "...I dunno what'cha talking about, boss." I'm trying to stay passive, not letting my voice give anything away. Papyrus somehow pulls himself up to an even more imposing height and takes a step forward, clenching his fists. He's only about a foot taller than me, but it makes me feel pathetic.

     "Do not lie to me, you utter imbecile. As the head of the Royal Guard, I keep an up-to-date record of all monster citizens for the King. I am well aware that there are no other skeletons in the city. So, what makes you think it's acceptable to be performing criminal activities for that... that disgusting human sympathiser."  
     I hate it when Paps talks like that. It makes him sound like the speciesist humans that spit at monsters on the street and refuse to allow them into their stores. I don't know why he's decided he has to keep me in line; after all, I'm the older sibling.

     "You know what, bro, I don't remember it bein' any o' your business anyway." My voice drops to a growl, without me letting it, and I somehow find the audacity to look my bro in the eye. Papyrus closes the distance between us instantly, taking me roughly by the collar of my shirt, his face only inches from mine. I try to keep from flinching, keep the heat in my soul down.

     "This wouldn't have to be any of my business were you not a pathetic waste of space. We have a reputation to uphold, Sans, and you are going to ruin that by associating with criminal humans! And if you get in trouble with these miscreants, it's going to be me that has to bail you out! Did you not think of that? Undyne is not going to protect you!"

     I lower my head again and glower, trying to control my breathing. I don't want this. It wasn't meant to be this way, but I don't have a choice if we wanna have the money to survive. He doesn't understand; I just want us to be okay. But I can't say those things.  
     "Whatever you say, bro."

     "Yes, it is as I say, actually. And you will address me as 'boss' until you start acting like a responsible part of this family." He shakes me by the collar before releasing me, where I stumble and let a snarl out to cover the whimper, straightening up and escaping to my room, followed by the beginnings of another verbal attack by Boss.

     He wasn't always like this.

     I lock the door, and put my back against it, sliding down to the floor. My chest feels tight, breathing ragged. The walls press in on me, soul pulsing like it might detonate and take everything with it. I can hear Papyrus ranting in the main room, but I can't register many words. Pathetic. Useless. Weak.  
     I don't know if I'm shaking from anger, fear, or both. My body's gone numb under the pressure sparking from my soul. It feels like a fire, so that's how I manifest it, letting the tongues of magic flame lick over my eye socket and burn out my vision on one side in hues of red and purple. It spreads to a part of my collar and down my arm, and then to the door. It licks along the bottom edge of it. I'm sure Papyrus can see it. It's probably not safe to let it run this hot, but it feels nice somehow, cuts through the numbness.

     After what feels like several hours, I manage to get up, extinguish the flames, and make my way to the desk, where I turn on the speakers and press play. Doesn't matter what's playing, just that it's loud enough that I can't hear my brother's voice or the ringing in my head. Metal always does the trick.  
     I sit on the edge of the bed and rest my head in my hands, scratching pointed fingertips over my skull. I can feel the sensation of bone on bone vibrating through my jaw, and the sharp pain of it grounds me a bit.

     I wake to the sound of the door slamming. Papyrus has gone out, then. The music has stopped playing at some point, and my jaw is stiff from where I was leaning it into my hands. Fell asleep sitting up. That's a new one. Light is creeping in around the curtain and highlighting all the crap on my floor. I groan and fall back onto the bed, as my phone goes off.

      _ **Bass-Bitch | 05:54** \- Mornin asshole. Got a new one for u. Meet @ Hugh's at 10 tonight._

     It's Undyne. Yeah, I really do work for the Shark. But she's the toughest bitch in Ebott and being on her side is better than working for Asgore. At least she's honourable, mostly. I keep her contact number under a mostly anonymous name since I've been trying to keep my affiliation with her secret from Paps. Until now.  
     Who told him? It could have been Undyne herself in an attempt at gloating, having claimed the brother of the head of the Royal Guard.

     What was once all out gang warfare between the Royal Guard and the anti-royalists has now devolved into petty rivalry, with the neutral monsters stuck in the middle. I've given up being passive and chosen a side, finally.  
     Asgore is ancient, cold and twisted, human-hating, and he loves to brainwash any monster he can. Undyne puts some amount of care into her work - though she's equally brutal, she doesn't discriminate between humans and monsters. And she doesn't kill children - that's how she ended up exiled in the first place.

     The split in the community is probably the only thing that stopped monsters from killing every human they encountered when they escaped the Underground. They were too busy starting up a turf war amongst themselves.

     I type a reply.

      _ **Red | 05:56** \- i'll be there. and i got a question for ya._

_**Bass-Bitch | 05:56** \- Oh yeah?_

_**Red | 05:56** \- papyrus knows. how'd he find out about this arrangement we got goin on?_

_**Bass-Bitch | 05:57** \- Ughhhhh. He would've found out anyway. That wimp is too perceptive for his own good. Is it gonna be a problem?_

_**Red | 05:58** \- i can handle it. c ya later._

     I'm pretty sure it was her that told Papyrus, but I'm used to people not having any regard for my wellbeing. I roll upright again with a grunt and take off my work shirt, locating my everyday jacket - the one with the off-white fur ruff and soft crimson lining - beginning to feel a bit more like myself as I shrug it over my shoulders.

     Padding out into the kitchen, I'm met with several white post-it notes with aggressive red writing. One on the bin, ordering me to take the trash out, one on the cupboard - a shopping list, and a new one on top of the string of many angry messages attached to the discarded sock in the corner, which manages to make me chuckle. There's one that looks out of place though; a bright pink one on the doormat. I take a look.

_Hey new neighbour!  
Nice music taste!  
Just an FYI, though -  
other people might  
not like it as much.  <3_

     I can't help but grin, gold tooth glimmering. My face feels like it cracks from where I haven't smiled for days. The writing is neat and swirling, and in no way aggressive in tone. Who's this then? They've drawn a little soul in the corner, and left no name. I head back to my room and turn the music back on, flicking the volume dial up a touch and chuckling. It's the little things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic, as you may have suspected, is inspired by [The Skeleton Games](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8700787/chapters/19948357) by [poetax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetax/pseuds/poetax). Kudos to their wonderful work!


	2. Not-So-Passive Aggressive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will have occasional references to a wide variety of music. Sound is very important to me, and it helps me set the atmosphere as well as providing some much needed pun fuel. It will be a recurring theme, but it's not at all important unless you want to have a listen while reading.
> 
> From now on I'll pop some track names in the end notes for the adventurous ones :3

     You roll over and grumble, flailing your arms for the pillows to draw them around your face. The music is back. You were just getting to sleep too. You touch your phone and squint at the brightness assaulting your senses. It's 6:30am. Why. Why would they do this. Dammit. Number. Seven.

     You sit up and groan in the direction of the connecting wall, your noise of complaint turning into a frustrated yell part way through. They almost certainly can't hear you over the metal. Do they even sleep?

     You pad around groggily for a bit, wondering what to do. The music is louder from inside your room, which probably means that this person has the bedroom directly next to yours. Ugh. This is stupid. They are deliberately ignoring your friendly little post-it note! You might have to start sleeping in the damn recording room.

     You stand and put your ear to the wall. Yeah. It's definitely right on the other side. Great. You bash your hand against the wall a few times and grumble some more.

     Knock knock!

     To your surprise, you get a reply. They're giving you sass, aren't they? How dare they encourage the wrath of the magnificent Empress Vespa! This means _war_.  
     After you've woken up properly and poured yourself some tea and cereal to bring to your war chariot (your bed), you fetch your speakers, and set them up as close to the wall as you can. They will feel your revenge in their bones!

     Now, what to play? You need to be able to match the weight of their music, and although you are almost certain your speakers can utterly destroy theirs, you have to be sure. You choose some equally heavy metal - Disturbed will do. When the guitars start up, you notch the bass up to a blissful hum that makes your skin tingle, and allow yourself a maniacal laugh as excitement rises in your chest. It begins.

     Your enemy's response is soon to follow. They turn their speakers up, and you can imagine them grinning like the evil tyrant they are. Right. You turn yours up too, hardly getting started. You are also in the comfortable position of knowing exactly how loud you can turn up your speakers before the neighbours in the No. 5 and 6 apartments across the corridor can hear it and have the opportunity to complain. You and Felix have already tested that.

     Your adversary changes the song and it takes a moment for it to really start up before you recognise it. Oh really? We're pulling the Mastodon card now? Holy shit, your neighbour is a brutal opponent. This calls for drastic measures.  
     You search the same artist and find an older, heavier song of theirs to play to match up to their challenge. Your move, faceless opponent.

     They let the songs run in horrid clashing cacophony for a while, causing the both of you excruciating pain, but you have the staying power, and in the end your rival gives in and the tone of their music switches. You know this one, from the very first note, and it makes your heart jump with the nostalgia of it. Opeth; a flashback to your adolescence. Oh yes. This person has style!

     You come up with a new tactic, since you could go on forever this way. You locate the same song and skip it forward a little until it matches up to theirs. It sounds unbelievable, becoming a dual-tone version of the dark melody where the two versions harmonise, it makes you feel like you're underwater. You find yourself laughing again.

     "Yessssss!" You scream. You think you can hear No. 7 laughing in a gruff manner too beneath the music. So, it's a tie then? You can deal with that. It would seem you are both just content to bathe in this auditory revelation.  
     The music calms to an acoustic section, and you turn your speakers back down. You accept the stalemate. For now. It was totally worth it. The little spontaneous music battle has you energised and ready for the day despite having caught only a few hours' sleep. On the plus side, you have a few extra hours in the day due to the stupidly early wake-up call.

\----- 

     Later, you're warming up for some capoeira exercise - one of your more useful and healthy hobbies, taken up alongside a good friend when you were sixteen. Your nervously-energised body craves disciplines that keep you occupied, and this certainly does that. Back in college, it had been your escape, driving opponents into the foam-padded floor of the gym in your evenings to burn off the stress of the workload.

     Now, you're standing in your main room on the practice mat with your arms above your head to stretch them, when something drops through your mail slot. It's small and white and fluttery as it drifts to the floor. You roll your shoulders, thinking of ignoring it, but you just can't help yourself. On inspection, it is revealed to be a post-it note.

_hey nø.8._   
_keep yøur nasty_   
_music tø yøurself._   
_it's awful - nø.7_

     The writing is crimson, lazy and rounded, and all the O's are crossed through angrily. No capitals either. What a weird writing habit. You snort. Clearly this isn't over, and they've worked out who sent them the post-it yesterday. You write a reply, adding a few extra flicks and flairs to your handwriting to match the ridiculous style of the other's.  
     You remind yourself to make a playlist of things to absolutely ruin the enemy in the next battle. Then, you sneak catlike on your polka-dot-socked feet to the door of Number 7, and slip the post-it through.

_If my taste is awful,_   
_then so is yours._   
_Let's battle again_   
_some time? .8_

     For now you put on some much lighter and more regular wordless music to practice to, and go through the movements of the 'dance' that is capoeira. You keep your torso lowered and your legs bent, swaying your shoulders to the beat.  
     Once you are ready, you begin swinging your weight into dodging rolls and kicks and staying in time, letting the motions flow naturally into whatever shape comes from your momentum. You manage to pull off some flips and high kicks despite not having an opponent to help break your fall.

     While you work out, you notice the faint sounds of life coming from the Number 7 apartment. Now that you have made a connection with them, you are more aware of your new neighbour shutting doors and padding around on the other side of the wall. It should be annoying, but it's actually almost nice to know there's someone there, even if they don't like you.

     Eventually fatigued, and done with your exercise for today, you lie on the mat and breathe deeply. You're taking in the ripples of the music when the sound of your mailbox opening stirs you, followed shortly by the slam of Number 7's door. The writing is even more aggressive this time:

_nø way in hell!_   
_leave me aløne_   
_and nø møre_   
_ pøst-its_

     You are quick with this one. You don't even bother to sneak to the other door. Silly Number 7, thinking this is over. You're not even warming up yet.

_Oh, no._  
_You started this._  
_I won't stop until  
you admit defeat!  <3_

     You're pretty sure Number 7 was waiting for the message. The reply is back within seconds, and you don't even hear the door slam after you receive it, like they are waiting in the corridor for you to finish this face-to-face. No way. You're not going out there! The message reads:

_fuck yøu_

_just gø away  
yøu mørøn_

     Well, that isn't very nice. They seem like they might actually be pissed off with you... You weren't aiming to actually make enemies with your neighbour. You have to find a way to rectify this. You spend a long time on the next one, re-writing it several times whilst listening out for the adjacent door to slam, signalling that Seven gave up waiting for you in the corridor. It never comes.

     Eventually you can't wait any more, and you open your door very, very slowly and peek out. Nobody there. Maybe they are trying to be sneaky too. You send your reply.

_Rude!_  
_No need to get  
so Disturbed  
about it!_

     That should be perfect. If that doesn't make them laugh, then you'll leave them be - maybe this won't be as much fun as you thought.

     You head back inside. Shit, you've been doing this for hours. It's nearly 12pm. You should probably carry on with that brochure you were designing. Maybe you can get that troublesome page finished today. Once you're set up, you check your messages. Two from dad, that you opt to ignore for now, and one from Felix that you must have missed, which you reply to.

_**Felix | 10:52** \- Hey babe. All ready to upload for u. How's tricks?_

_**Vespa | 11:48** \- Hey! Thanks hun. I have had an awesome morning.  
_ _**Vespa | 11:48** \- So you know I have a new neighbour?_

_**Felix | 11:51** \- Gasp! Yeah, u meet them finally?_

_**Vespa | 11:52** \- We've been messaging each other all morning ;)_

_**Felix | 11:52** \- Messaging?????? R they flirting w my girl? More importantly r they cute?_

_**Vespa | 11:53** \- They're an asshole. We've been sending each other passive-aggressive post it notes since yesterday. It's awesome._

_**Felix | 11:54** \- ... **  
**       **Felix | 11:54** \- I thought u meant they were texting u. What r u even doing?!_

_**Vespa | 11:56** \- Having music battles mostly._

_**Felix | 11:56** \- Wth girl I thought u made an actual human connection for once! Ur such a dweeb._

_**Vespa | 11:56** \- Ew, relationships! Nah, this is better. No. 7 is a dick and it's hilarious._

_**Felix | 11:57** \- Weirdo_

_**Vespa | 11:57** \- You love it~_

     Giggling, you lie back and sigh. You should probably work now. You're almost starting to feel guilty about it. You get down to business, instantly becoming locked into focus on the work. Today is going to be so productive.

\-----

     After several hours of working through pages, you've nearly beaten this job. One last pesky area of text fitted into the page neatly, and it's time for a tea break. As you're boiling the kettle, you check for a reply from your neighbour.  
     Huh. There isn't one. Maybe they actually got angry enough with you to end your game? Was the pun the last straw? It's almost a shame.

     They don't reply all day, and by the evening you are contemplating some kind of apology. You have nervously reread their last note telling you to 'just go away' several times, trying to work out the tone in which it was intended. They probably think you're crazy now. Eh. You can handle that.  
     Neighbours who avoid you are better than neighbours who treat you like shit, like the guy over in Number 6, who's racist, sexist, and speciesist, and makes it his duty to complain about everyone. Anything is better than that.

     Still. You should make Seven some cookies or something...

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     "You'd better keep your word, deadeye. I find out you've been mouthin' off to my bro again and I'll tuna _fillet_ you." I stuff my hands into my pockets and grin over my shoulder at Undyne, who's glaring at my back with mock murderous intent from outside the bar.

     I'd managed to learn pretty quickly that it had been her who'd told Paps about my work. She'd confessed (proudly) that telling him had been worth the look on his face. Welp. Explaining things to Papyrus is a job for Future Red.

     I head away from the back-alley bar we use as an inconspicuous meeting place and take a shortcut the last stretch of the journey back home, avoiding the part of the journey where I'd have to take the subway. I've worked out exactly how much distance I can teleport without using too much magic.  
     Everything is so much further away on the surface that it's actually less tiring to walk sometimes. But if there's one part I hate most, it's the crowded tunnels of the subway. I can't stand the idea of being underground again.

     I blip into the stairwell of my floor, avoiding places where idiot humans or my bro might spot me using my magic. The hallway smells like baking. Seems like its coming from Number 8. Damn, human food might be weird but I would kill for something that isn't burnt spaghetti or burgers. I almost contemplate 'porting in and stealing some, but I'm too lazy for that.

     Thinking of Number 8, I've finally decided on a good reply to their message. That pun they pulled had me awed for longer than I'd like to admit. They didn't seem even slightly put-off by my approach either.  
     Sure, they'll change their tune if they ever see that the person they're passing notes to is a huge, ugly, terrifying skeleton monster. But for now, I kinda like the amicable sparring. It's so different from the abuse I have to put up with from Papyrus; even though I tried to get a rise outta this stranger or scare them off, they still kept going like it was a game.  
     It should be annoying, but somehow it's nice to know there's someone there, even if they're human.

     I throw my work jacket on a chair and undo the buttons on my shirt, loosening my crimson tie and rolling my shoulder joints with a groan. I don't mind the uniform that Undyne insists I wear to keep up appearances for the Shark mob. I do look pretty great in it, but it's impractical for movement and not comfortable at all. At least the tie matches my eyes.

     Once I've collected a half-empty bottle of mustard from the fridge, I grab a sticky note to return Number 8's message. Gotta completely blow their pun game out of the water.

_i mastødøn  
sømething awful  
in my previøus life  
tø deserve this_

     Beautiful. Nobody beats Sans the Skeleton at his own game. I teleport over to their doorway, listening a moment. They're singing to something quietly, and it still smells like baking out in the corridor.

     I set my message free and listen as they stop singing and pad over to pick it up. My own face betrays me, I can't help but grin when I hear their laughter. I'm glad there's nobody in the corridor to see me doing something this dumb. Especially not Papyrus.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     You take it all back. Number 7 is the best neighbour in the entire universe. That was a good one. You guess they were just busy earlier, and you can't help but be relieved that they aren't mad at you.  
     But now you have about five days' supply of slightly overcooked choc-chip cookies to get rid of. You decide to leave them some. Along with the next note, which has to beat theirs, of course:

_I am Opeth to_   
_negotiations of_   
_your surrender_   
_xxxxx_

     Right. You set the note down atop the tin of cookies, knock on the door, and scurry back to your own like a mouse to its hole, suppressing jittery giggles. This might not be what Felix referred to as 'actual human connection', but it's definitely more fun than horrible, awkward small talk with neighbours that don't actually want to talk to you.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     And Number 8 strikes again. Look at this, they're keeping me on my toes. I must be losing my touch. And they left... something else with their note? I can smell what it is without opening the tin as I carry it inside.  
     They made cookies for me? Why? Does this have some kind of weird human social meaning or are they trying to poison me to win the fight? Considering how sensitive humans are about killing each other, it's probably the former. This is some kind of peace offering?  
     Oh no, they don't get to back down now. I make sure they're aware of that.

_nø surrender._   
_i will destrøy yøu_   
_– yøu ain't seen_   
_nøthing yet_

     I don't really get why they're taking all my threats as jokes, but it does mean I don't have to worry about scaring them off. They really should be more cautious. I could be anyone. I could be a human killer. Oh wait. I am. Heh.  
     I want to wait somewhere so I can catch a glimpse of them, but there's nowhere in the corridor to hide. Can't let them see me. Not if I want to keep playing. I wait just inside the door though, and it feels like ages until they come to return the note. I snatch it before it hits the floor.

_Oh shit!_  
_I will await your  
response with  
baited breath - V._

     'V'? Is that their name? I catch myself smiling again and then kick myself for it... but you know, maybe it's okay to have this game? Just for now. Just until they find out about me, or Papyrus puts a stop to it...

     A little bit of fun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are his O's crossed through? Nobody knows. It just came to me and I liked the idea :3
> 
> ((Tracks I used this chapter, bearing in mind this stuff is heavy. Blame Sans...
> 
> Disturbed - Shout2000  
> Mastodon - Dry Bone Valley (ffs Sans) and Aqua Dementia  
> Opeth - Blackwater Park))
> 
> The thing with the cookies was absolutely definitely a reference to the wonderful [ToumeiKyoudai's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToumeiKyoudai/pseuds/ToumeiKyoudai) [Rain, Rain, Go Fuck Yourself](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7606471/chapters/17312281).
> 
> Also I have a blog for this thing, over [here](http://crescentmoogle.tumblr.com/).


	3. Hitman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I formatted this whole thing and then it decided to swandive straight into the void rather than posting...  
> So it has been DOUBLE edited now.
> 
> There will be a moderate helping of violence in this chapter. Not at all graphic, but the trend will continue.
> 
> ~~~This has been a Moogle Advisory~~~

     "You done?"

     He whines again and braces his arms against the wet ground, shaking under his own weight, like he's gonna try to get up. I aim my foot at the soft place below his ribcage once more, just hard enough so he knows I could be a lot rougher than I'm currently being. He stopped trying to negotiate with me a while ago, so I think he's finally got the message.  
     The only gangs left now who'll go against Undyne's people are the really proud or stupid ones; the ones who don't see monsters as people, and won't take our threats seriously. To begin with, it was a constant danger for any of us to walk around alone, no different above ground than below. Human law enforcement? They wouldn't have even blinked if they saw someone dusted right in front of them. Not that that's changed at all.  
     That our species can be safe outside of their homes... That's all down to people like Undyne, or even the damned Royal Guard. It's fear that stops humans from hunting us down. And I'm  _good_  at fear.

     The glimmer of Hope left in my soul feels rotten doing this, but the part of it that's already dull and sickly - that is, most of it - gets a  _kick_  outta this job. Heh.  
     I don't know what I'd be like if I didn't do anything with all the excess magic that my abnormal soul generates. I need an outlet, and the choices are slim up here. The scumbags we deal with are just as hated by law enforcement as us monsters, so they turn a blind eye to what we do in the derelict alleyways of the most forgotten parts of the city - they don't care when the dregs of their own race turn up dead; there's too many of them anyway. As long as we don't get caught by any cops for using magic, we're fine. We're keeping the peace out here...

     At least, that's what I tell myself.

     It doesn't really matter what this particular loser did, or what Undyne wants with him. I didn't even ask. He's just a weak-willed human who's coughing up blood and whimpering like this  _wasn't_  his fault, because I always get carried away and they are never strong enough to take it, even the real murderers.  
     They're not strong enough even though I'm soft for my kind, as Papyrus likes to remind me. Measly 3 HP, can't get it higher even though I've been training, and they still can't take me down. Sometimes I let 'em get close, but my magic always activates whether I want it to or not - call it instinct - and then it's over pretty quick. I've never been in a real tight spot since we hit the surface. Makes it kinda hard to believe that humans were ever powerful enough to put us Underground in the first place.  
     There's no sign of the mages that put up the barrier. We'd been scared about them when we first got out, but there aren't any... It's like humans have forgotten they once wielded the same power we have, as if all the mages died out when they buried all the magic. Wouldn't be surprised if that's what happened.

     Back to the subject at hand, the guy on the floor takes my lack of action as an opportunity to sit up on his knees, clenched fists covered in his own blood from where he tried to hit me. The idiots love to point out that I'm a skeleton, but they never think about the fact that that means I'm not a good punching bag. I can only take a few hits, but each one'll fracture your wrist in three places. Shame they're so soft, really. It must be frustrating. The only upside to being a human is that they can recover even if they fall down.

     "So." I lean against the brick wall of the alleyway. "What's it gonna be?" The human squints up at me, has to spit out more blood so he can answer.  
  
     "Y-yeah. We won't get in the Shark's way no more."

     "And what 'bout the shipments?" I tip my head to look down at him expectantly.

     "They... they go through her now. No going behind her back."

     "That's what I thought. Now that that's settled." I wave nonchalantly and he flinches, expecting more magic, but I'm out. I leave him to his business and trudge in the direction of home, making sure to wind around aimlessly for a while in case he wants to send anyone after me. It's still early evening, approaching rush hour and not even dark, so I doubt they'll try anything now.

     I don't like walking the city before dark. Don't have to do it often, but sometimes the target is easier to find in the day. When I'm out at this time of day, I'm always reminded that creatures like me should be hiding in their caves.  
     People stare plenty, even when I'm wearing my normal clothing, but when I'm in my work suit? Yeah, you can imagine. Gormless-looking humans stopping in their tracks or scrambling to get outta my path when they see me coming. It's not like I'm concerned about their glaring or the insults they think I can't hear, or the way they move their children out of sight. It's just not a good feeling, when their opinions are all projecting like beacons from their souls. As if I don't already know what I am.  
     You'd think I wouldn't mind, but it starts to drag on you after a couple of years of it.

     Oh, and don't get me _started_ on human souls. Most don't even mask their intent, emotions flying around all over the fucking place. They don't know they're doing it, of course. They can't feel their own souls. It would be so much easier if they could.  
     It's a headache for me, though. All that enticing crystal-glow humming right within my grasp and forbidden. It's like being surrounded by treasure and not being able to even touch it. The only human souls I get to savour are dirty and tarnished, no brighter than mine, hardly any aspect of their Soul Types left. Been a long time since I've held anything as bright and pure as the innocents you find Aboveground.

     I can sense someone burning a hole in my skull staring, and when I look up ahead of me, my vision's filled with green. There's this human girl, walking straight towards me on an empty sidewalk where almost everyone else has crossed over or ducked into stores to get out of the way, as usual. She's not hiding that she's staring, and when she catches my eye, she gives me this _smile_. Not only is she not afraid, she's grinning proudly at being caught looking. She's got these big neon green headphones on, which match her soul that's singing so enticingly in summer-leaf green. There's a dragon skull on her shirt, looks a bit like my blasters, and her long coat flares out as she walks.

     I give her a generous glare, of course, and set my shoulders for a touch of extra intimidation. Stupid girl. I might be mostly harmless towards regular humans, but if she looked at some of us like that she wouldn't last the day. She struts past me, shamelessly maintaining her gaze. If I wasn't six feet of ivory and hatred, I'd say she was checking me out. Like I said - stupid girl.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     Okay, so he's huge, spiky, and mildly terrifying, but damn if he isn't cool, with a tailored suit and blood-red tie that matches the tiny lights in the pits of his sockets, and a four-point golden star on a long chain at his neck. Oh, and he's a skeleton, did you mention that? Yeah. He's _really_ cool. The way he walks radiates intimidation and disinterest. He holds such a presence that street between you and him empties as you watch, his jaw set and a frown creasing his somehow-expressive brow. You don't hold that your enthralment has anything to do with the fact that suits are a bit of a thing for you... Nnnnope.

     Monsters are somewhat of a fascination though... Growing up wishing that all the stories were true, that there was a Wonderland or Narnia to escape to, that the mages and sorcerers that this area is renowned for were more than legends. The existence of very alive magical beings is a dream come true. You don't know any personally - they tend to be wary of humans which makes sense, but you've avidly followed the news and online coverage of their presence above ground since they got here two years ago.  
     One of the awesome things about living in Ebott is that about two-thirds of the monster population stopped here after they left the mountain. Ebott had been an insignificant, average city before. Now, the monster presence makes it a tourist destination, and its name is spoken worldwide.

     You make sure to give the skeleton a bright smile when he catches you, since there's no point pretending that you're not looking at him. He's not very receptive, but if he wants to be an asshole, fine. You take a good look anyway, making sure that he's aware that you don't buy his bullshit intimidation act. He huffs as he breaks eye contact with you. That's what you thought - monsters aren't scary.  
     There are people in nearby stores watching you through windows and doorways in removed concern, but you hope that maybe they will be slightly less afraid the next time a monster walks past them. These creatures are only scary because that's what society has told them they are.

\-----

     You're still thinking about the skeleton encounter by the time you reach Felix's flat, when a phone call rudely interrupts your pondering, giving you a ball of anxiety and reluctance in your stomach when you see who's calling. Oh dear, it's dad. You 'forgot' to read his messages yesterday too... You can't keep avoiding this, it appears.

     Click.

     "Hi dad, what's up?"

      _"Oh, still alive then? I've been trying to get hold of you for days. You could at least answer your messages."_  His voice is heavy with fatherly concern.

     "Yeah, I know, I've just been busy."

      _"Is the brochure finished then?"_   Of course, it's always business with him nowadays.

     "Yeah, it's done, but I'm not home right now. I'll send it tomorrow?" You bluff, trying not to think about how late you're going to have to stay up tonight to finish the work you were procrastinating on.

      _"That would be best. The print deadline's only three days away."_

     "...I know that." Your voice slips into sass territory as your stomach knots itself up.

     He clears his throat.  _"Well... that's not why I was calling anyway. The new company manager has started inputting the changes to the team today, and they want everything done in-house. I thought I'd tell you before they start adjusting the staff so you can have everything ready."_

     "Have what ready?" Your mind starts whirring uncomfortably.

      _"Your belongings, of course. You're going to have to move back here within the month."_  He says it like it should be obvious.

     "What?" You try to keep your voice level. "No way. I've just got everything sorted again."

      _"Really? I know where you're living, Amy."_  You cringe as he uses your real name.  _"You'd prefer to stay in that tiny apartment rather than come back here?"_  It's not like dad's house isn't big enough, but you can't stand the idea of living with him again.

     "This is my home city dad, I belong here. I have friends here. I can commute if they won't let me carry on working remotely. I'm not moving again."

      _"This is ridiculous. They won't keep you on if you aren't prepared to move for the job."_  What he really means is that if you won't comply, he won't do anything to stop them firing you. He sighs and applies a kinder tone.  _"This is your career, darling. What will you do if they fire you? Go back to working in bars again?"_

     "I won't have to. I've got the youtube stuff now."

      _"Your videos? How is that going to support you? You can't survive on that."_

     "I can! Lots of people do now, dad. That's what I want to do."

      _"I know it's what you want, but it's just not viable. It's a hobby, not a career. You've had the chance to chase dreams, but you're getting too old for that now. Come home please, Amy?"_

     You try not to show how hurt you are by that. "No. I am home. I'm not coming back. Let me worry about surviving, I've got it under control."

      _"Right... Well. In that case, I'll let them know at the company shall I?"_  You can tell that he really wants you to change your mind. It's out of love, somehow, but it comes across as blackmail anyway.

     "Yeah, that's fine... I'm sorry." There's a long pause before he replies, just waiting a little more to see if you'll suddenly decide on what he wants.

      _"...Keep in touch. Goodbye."_

     "Yeah, you too..." You reply quietly.

     Click.

     Yeah. That's just like him. No arguments, just reserved disappointment. Living with him had been fine until you were old enough to have responsibility, and from there he had been pushing you to achieve and grow up. He wants you to work for a big, classy company like his, to earn well and work hard at the expense of what you truly want to do. He wants to be proud of you, really he does, but he doesn't understand your way of doing things.  
     He'd never force you though. That's an upside at least.  
     During your conversation, you were pacing, but now you sit on the cold concrete steps outside Felix's apartment and release a shivery sigh of cold and defeat. Who are you kidding? You really don't have things under control. Without the high-paid work from the company, you'll be broke in less than a month. The videos don't supply the income you need to support yourself, let alone Felix.

     You  _hate_  it when dad's right.

     Familiar warm hands grip your shoulders from behind you, and out of nowhere Felix leans his head on top of yours.

     "Hey, Fee." You sigh, leaning into his grip.

     "Hey honeybee. I heard you arguing from the window. You okay?"

     "Mhm... Just dad troubles."

     He rubs your shoulders gently. "Wanna tell me?"

     "Let's get inside, yeah?"

     You're led into his eclectic flat and quickly sat down and handed a cup of tea. The room smells like incense smoke and fruity bath products; the authentic, comforting Felix Scent. He's at your side, toying with his phone as you talk, with his feet up on the low coffee table like he couldn't be any more relaxed if he tried. Just his presence helps ease the tension in your stomach.

     "So what's the issue?" He asks after you're settled.

     "Well. The major problem is that now I'm out of work."

     "What?" He's got his arm around your shoulders immediately, dark eyes studying your face. "Don't tell me he fired you? I'll go over there myself if you need-"

     "No, no, it wasn't really like that. They're just making changes that are clearly the invention of someone wanting to move back in time rather than forward. But I am not moving back there."

     "So... He did fire you." He grumbles and leans more heavily against you, and his enviably-soft hair brushes your cheek. He smells like blackcurrant. "Of course you're not moving. If he tries to get you back there, I'll abduct you, okay?"

     "Please?" You laugh half-heartedly. "If you steal me I can just pretend I'm your cat and avoid all my responsibilities."

     "Hmh. Well, we gotta sort something out." He sounds more passionate about this than you are. You fall to thinking in silence a while, resting your head on top of Felix's, with him occasionally showing you ideas for work opportunities on his phone. His aura is reassuring, stable and warm, like always.

     You let your vision get drawn into the interlocking patterns and colours of an abstract painting hanging on the opposite wall, whilst your mind drifts back to the conversation with your father. You don't let the worry build again, though. There's nothing you can do about your predicament for now. Your recollection drifts further back through today, to the chilly journey here, and... glimmering crimson pinpricks in the empty eye sockets of a living skeleton. You wonder if he lives nearby. That would be neat... Although this area tends to be almost exclusively human-populated. The overbearing, tall buildings and shadowed alleyways don't suit most monsters. Too close to home, as it were.  
     They tend to live further out, where the buildings are smaller and the horizons more visible. Places where you can see the sun setting.

     "You could become a professional hitman?" Felix unhelpfully suggests, knocking you out of your daydream.

     "No way!" You chuckle back. "Unlike you, I don't mix work and pleasure."

     "I don't think I like what you're insinuating, young lady." He protests in his best dad voice.

     "What? Are you saying you _wouldn't_ enjoy killing a man?" You retort.

     "Depends on the man." He gives a sly grin, then his face lights up. "Oh, hey! Talking of killer men, you remember Hugh?"

     You tip your head to the side. "Mhm? Your ex, that Irish guy?" Felix nods. "What, you want me take him out?" You give your best evil smirk to accompany finger guns.

     "Ahaha, no, I don't want you to take him out. He runs a bar now, just around the corner from here. You want me to ask him if he could do with some assistance?"

     "Depends what kind of bar it is." You squint at him.

     "It's an Irish gangster joint." He deadpans. You squint harder, contorting your face comically. "No, but seriously. It's got a good atmosphere. Not classy, but what do you care?"

     "Hmph. Sure. Why not?" You shrug. Anything's better than nothing.

     "We could head over there tonight, give you a feel for the place?" He suggests.

     "Only if you're buying." You wiggle your eyebrows at him.

     "Obviously. You're practically broke." He replies with a smirk, receiving a punch on the shoulder from you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said I would upload this two days ago? I lied. Be prepared for that to be a running theme.  
> This one just doesn't feel great, but what can you do? Sometimes they just put up a fight ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> [Visit me on tumblr!](http://crescentmoogle.tumblr.com/)


	4. Gentlehumans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you wonderful people for your support!
> 
> I'm having fun with this.

     "Oh, fuck off!" Felix laughs, throwing down his controller. "I concede!"

     "Oh, no, come on, Fee~" You croon, winking at the camera set up above your screen. "Encore? Who says encore for the handsome gent in blue?" You check the livestream chat for replies while Felix throws a silent tantrum and collapses onto his side, out of the shot on the floor, defeated one too many times once again by your competitive nature.

     You wait for your small following watching the stream - 20 or so people this time around - to make up their minds and then nudge your companion.

     "Look, Fee! The audience have decided. You have no choice." You give him a mournful look until he sits back up and retrieves his controller.  
     "Right! So for this last game..." You apply your outspoken commentator voice again and get to setting up the last versus match of the stream. The game you're playing is a cute, cartoony one called Tatachi, where each player controls a set of tiny creatures in order to outwit each other in a murderous puzzle maze. You've played it far too much.

     The stream isn't going as well as you would have liked, and by now you're just keeping the energy going so that the few viewers you have will come back next time. There are enough people watching that you don't feel like giving it up. The occasional donations from the streams are not going to save you from starvation, but at least you can pay Felix.  
     You finish up the round pretty quickly.

     "No way!" Felix complains as his last creature in the maze falls into a pitfall trap. "I want a new partner. Now hiring for a replacement Vespa who I can actually beat at this game!"

     You wrap up the stream with more banter back and forwards between the two of you.  
     "Thank you for joining us, gentlehumans. That's it from FeeVee for today, have a good one and we'll see you soon!" You finish up. You and Felix simultaneously blow a kiss for the camera and you cut the stream, checking it saved the footage correctly before lying back on the floor, hands brushing against the bottom of the greenscreen behind you.

     "Well, that was okay." You sigh.

     Felix joins you in lying down. "It was perfect. How many views did we have in the end?"

     "Still less than thirty on average, but at least it's going up rather than down..." You sigh, and for a while the two of you lie in restful silence.  
     "...Should I change the intro and outro?" You ponder aloud. Felix gives a questioning hum. "'Gentlehumans' seems a bit speciesist now, doesn't it?" You explain. You'd started your struggling youtube career before monsters had arrived on the surface, but now, your wording designed as a catchy tag seems like you're pandering to a human-only audience.

     "It's not like it matters at the moment anyway." He says. He rolls upright again to check back over the stream. "Until we get more viewers, the chance of any monsters finding us is very unlikely."

     You snort. "Now you're making it sound like we're some kind of undercover monster hate channel. I'm gonna change it." You stretch, giving a groan. "We should get ready to go."

     Felix shrugs. "You get ready to go. I don't have to go anywhere."

     "What, is this your house now? Get up, loser, you're my moral support." You get up and check the time while Felix throws another tantrum and lies face-down on the floor. You chuckle at him and leave to get ready. Not long until you have to make the trip down to Hugh's Bar to start your trial shift.

     You dress in a smart outfit - sensible trousers, a black shirt, and a waistcoat that fits you flatteringly at the waist - you want to make a good first impression, after all. You even tie up your long hair elegantly and spent more than two minutes on your makeup.

–––––

     It turns out you needn't have bothered to try so hard. Hugh's bar isn't exactly throbbing on a normal day, but today is a weeknight so it's just a handful of groups of workmen filling the little place with hubbub. None of them care whether you look the part or not.

     You gaze out over the crowd absently, wiping down the bar top to look busy. The landlord, Felix's ex, has pretty much left you to your own devices along with one other on-trial bartender - a girl called Lauren - within minutes of your arrival. Hugh himself is leaning on a high table chatting with Felix and some of his other patrons.

     Hugh is a few years older than Felix (as is Felix's type), ruggedly good looking, Irish, and always has the glint of a smile in his eyes. He only set the bar up recently but he acts like he was born into the trade. He's always been charismatic and laid-back. Probably the reason he and Felix are still friends rather than Felix having ripped every trace of the older man from existence when he left him... Felix has broken more hearts than you will ever have relationships.

     A ripple of laughter goes up from a discreet booth in the corner and catches your attention. The group sitting there are a colourful bunch, not a single human among them or anywhere near them - the booths and tables near to theirs are mysteriously empty. A pair of fluffy ears are visible over the top of the divider, and...  
     Wait.  _He's_ here? Since the group is hidden in the back corner, you only just noticed him. The raucous laughter of his buddies fills the room for a moment. A couple of sleazy-looking humans at the bar glance sourly over their shoulders at the noise.

     It's the skeleton you saw the other day on the street. No doubt about it. It's the gold tooth that gives it away. He's talking in a hushed voice compared to his companions, but the bass of it carries and you can pick the voice out over the hubbub of other conversations in the room.

     It's a _really_ nice voice. Like dark rum over cracked ice. His company includes a toned, shimmering red-head who looks like a shark-mermaid, and a dog wearing a spiked collar and smoking a... what is that? A weird, lumpy cigar? Okay, so he shouldn't be smoking in here but nobody's going to stop him, are they? Everyone seems to be avoiding them, which is not uncommon for monsters.  
     Even Hugh is turning a blind eye, which tells you that these guys must be about as much of a threat as they look. So, it looks like Tall, Pale and Spiky is a local after all. The skeleton is certainly solidifying his image of being a tough, untouchable member of a dangerous species. But you refuse to let it intimidate you.

     The skeleton gets up after setting off another bout of laughter from his colleagues and saunters over to the bar. Lauren's serving. She's young, it's her first bar job, and she's visibly nervous as he approaches. She's far too pure for this backstreet bar, delicate, pretty little thing that she is. She should be working at a five-star hotel at the other end of town. The men here have begun to pick on her, you've noticed, spurred on by the shyness of her nature. And now there's the monster. The hulking, grinning creature waltzes up to the bar and you can _feel_ her wishing she was anywhere but here. She looks like she might faint. She's definitely not steady enough to pour drinks.

     "Same again, sweetheart." He has a rough accent that you can tell is probably inherited from the company he keeps, rather than natural. From his... line of work, most likely, judging by how his aura of confidence doubles as he notices the irritation now radiating from the two men further down the bar. There are plenty of crooks in this city, and that didn't change when monsters arrived. They fit right in.  
     The monster leans an arm on the counter to emphasise how unthreatened he is by the two mens' glares, and drums his sharpened fingertips there against the wood as he waits for Lauren to respond. When she doesn't acknowledge him, he clears his throat.

     "O-oh. I'm... Sorry-..." Lauren isn't even looking at him as she speaks, like she thinks he might disappear if she looks away.

     He seems entertained by her nervousness, just like most other patrons, but when she apologises, he looks suspicious. His eyes darken rapidly, the little red specks he has for pupils dimming to almost nothing to clearly express his distaste. The air goes heavy. Uh oh. He thinks she's going to refuse to serve him like an awful lot of businesses do. But this is a monster-friendly bar, or rather, Hugh is equally distrustful of humans and monsters. You decide to step in.

     "It's alright, Lauren, I've got this one." You slide in next to her at the bar and nudge her away from the till she's clinging to for dear life. The spell seems to break, and she blushes and practically runs away. You roll your eyes so the monster can see, and shrug apologetically with a smile. He chuckles and relaxes a bit as you lean on the bar, mirroring him, visibly open and friendly. Dodged a bullet there. You might not be naturally afraid of monsters but your instinct tells you that this isn't the kind of guy that a young human like Lauren wants to upset.

     "She's a nervous little thing, ain't she?" He drawls darkly, still prepared to challenge you for his right to drink here. _Shit_ , his voice is great this close. It makes your skin tingle like the feeling when thunder rolls. It warns you away and draws you in all at once. Voices like that should be illegal.

     "This is her first night, she's only seventeen, and you're about two feet taller than her." You tease, with your best appeasing smile. He looks a little surprised. That's right, mister skeleton asshole. This lady ain't afraid of anyone. Mind you, he isn't being as much of an asshole as he was on the street earlier. Maybe it's the alcohol. You motion to his table across the room.  
     "What can I get you?"

     "A double Bloody Mary with plenty of heat, and two beers."

     You get to making the drinks. You're pretty skilled behind the bar by now, after all the short-term jobs you've taken throughout your life at clubs and pubs. Shortly, you turn to set the three glasses down, and see your customer staring intently at you, deep in thought. It makes your insides squirm, the way he's looking through you like he's staring straight into your very being. It's more than a little unnerving.

     You bring him out of his trance when you speak up. "Are you alright, sir?"

     He blinks... That isn't weird at all. "Heh. I'm not a 'sir' by any stretch, sweetheart. Name's Sans. Just put 'em on my tab. Thanks darlin'" And he winks. What's with the eyes? You don't give him your name in return. You're not totally crazy.

     He empties a bottle of tabasco into the Bloody Mary, and as he turns to walk away, he nods at the two men at the bar who are trying not to be noticed.

     "Boys." He croons in an overly-sweet tone. You know that if he'd had a hat, he would have tipped the brim in their direction. The one closest looks like he's trying to melt into the guy behind him, who's hiding in his friend's shadow. So, you're gonna go with the idea that he's a mobster-monster. That would explain the suit when you passed him on the street before. You decide in this moment that this is the best bar in the city.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     I take the drinks back to Undyne and Doggo and shuffle into my side of the booth. They're both laughing roughly about the two local boys who're still shaking on their barstools behind me. I share their smirk and turn back to look, but I'm not really looking at the boys.

     See, cause we've all lived our whole lives among other monsters, and cause of how different we monsters can be from each other visually, I sometimes struggle a little with recognising one human from another by faces alone... The girl behind the bar, I shouldn't recognise at all. Especially not since she's all dolled up with her hair tied back and that tight-fitted waistcoat on. She looks totally different.  
     But monsters have the handy advantage of also being able to see human souls pretty easily, and those are all absolutely unique.

     It's not just the seven major colours. Souls have nuances and patterns of light that change with experiences and friendships and traumas. Combinations of markings that tell you details about a person they might not even know themselves.

     I know it's her, the same fearless girl who passed me on the street the other day. I've not seen a Kind soul that intense in all my time Aboveground, and it's got these little sparks of other colours like fireworks going off all through it, so there's no way I could mistake it. I get the thought that I really want to touch that soul in particular. It'd feel amazing, like having captured the sunlight right out of the sky.  
     ...I don't think I'd honestly be able to handle that amount of Kindness without losing control and ripping the pretty little soul out to keep for myself. The idea of it makes me grip my own wrist to bring me back to myself. I stamp that feral feeling down where it belongs. As if humans weren't afraid enough of us already... I really am losing it.

     But now I know it's not just that that's unusual about her. While she was making the drinks, I had plenty of time to properly check her soul. Yeah, yeah, I know it's wrong. But she's _human_. They can't even tell when I'm doing it. Don't even need to be that close to do it either, and I can read more than almost anyone since I'm from a Judge family. She's strong. Most noticeably, her HP. She has 2,800. That is to say, it's almost as much as Undyne - the woman who has trained every day of her tough, dusty life to become an undefeated beast. She's faced Asgore repeatedly and come out standing up every time.  
     And this kid is almost even with her on survivability.

     It's nothing to do with being human that's made this girl strong; I've known plenty of humans whose HP doesn't even breach the 100 mark. Especially in this part of the city, where humans fight to make enough of a living to eat and keep a home, just as much as monsters do. She's just _so_ Hopeful. What is that even like?

     I'm looking over there now, while Undyne's pulling faces at the local boys and cackling. She's a pretty little thing, for a human, curvy and probably shorter than me by a foot or so, but you wouldn't know it from her demeanour. I can hear her boots on the floor as she works, almost daring someone to risk getting under her feet. And she moves with purpose, like she's walking to a drumbeat in her head. Her arms are toned from working, like Undyne's.

     I watch the girl as she heads over to Hugh's table and nudges his shoulder to ask him something. Her attitude says she knows him pretty well. Some skinny guy at that table says something. She replies, gives the guy that same cocky smile she gave me on the street the other day, picks up five glasses in one hand and blows the guy a kiss with the other as she turns her back on him. Hugh's laughing and the other human puts his forehead down on the table. Poor guy. I can relate right now. I already know she's trouble.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     You are way too curious. You have to ask. You head over to Hugh's table and nudge him as you collect glasses as an excuse for being there.

     "Who's the skeleton then?"

     Hugh exhales, smiling. "That's just Sans. Was he bothering you?"

     "Nah, he's cool. Think those two up at the bar are a bit spooked by the scary skeleton though." Felix snorts into his cocktail. Hugh just shrugs, missing the joke.

     "They're always on edge when the monsters come in, I wouldn't worry about them starting anything. Think the regulars know not t'mess with those monsters anyway."

     You frown. "They seem pretty awesome to me."

     "That's just because you're a weirdo." Felix notes.

     You smirk. "Shush, loser. You're just saying cruel things because you're jealous that my boss is hot." You blow him a kiss as you walk away to Hugh's laughter and Felix's lamentations.

     All in all, it's a great first shift. You can do this. No going broke for FeeVee just yet. You're gonna power through this with the support of your new job working for a gangster bar. On the way back home, you create a fantastical story with Felix about an alternate universe in which his hot ex is actually an Irish Mob boss and he's running things through his bar, working hand-in-hand with the elusive Monster Mafia.

     If only life were so interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, okay, so it's unusual to have an Undertale fic involving a bar and to not have that bar be Grillby's... but there are reasons, I assure you.


	5. Escalation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a bit more intense than I'd intended, sorry!  
> It has to happen sooner or later >:D
> 
> Let me know how you're liking my trash in the comments *blows a kiss*

     "I'm not standing for it! I will not share a roof with anti-royalist scum. Not even for my own brother. It ends, now." Papyrus glares down at me expectantly. What does he want me to say? What can I say that won't dig me deeper into this hole?

     "B-boss, it doesn't have anythin' to do with bein' an anti-royalist. You know I never gave a shit about the politics." I can tell it's the wrong answer before I finish speaking.

     "Well, you _should_ care. If you knew the first thing about who it is you're mixing with, maybe you wouldn't be so naive as to trust Undyne. She'll only use you until she realises that your sole value is in your connection to me, and then you'll be lucky if she lets you go alive! One halfhearted swing from that woman and you will be dust, you hear me?" He raises his fist toward me to emphasise the point, and I really wish he would just hit me. He never does though. He's always in control. I'm trying not to get angry, really I am, but at this point, anything I say is just gonna give him more ammo to use against me. Might as well make it count.

     "You make it seem like I know fuck all about what's goin' on out there. I know just as well as you do. Just 'cause I didn't take a side, doesn't mean I don't know what she's capable of. But that's nothin'. Not compared to what your _King_ will do to get what he wants." I manage to get an enraged scoff from Papyrus for that one.

     "Don't. You. Dare. You will not insult our King. Without his methods, we would still be trapped Underground! And you? You'd most likely be dead."

     I fix him a disbelieving glare.

     "Don't gimme that. You know that if he'd had his way, it wouldn't just be me that'd be dead. He would've brought us to the surface armed for war. The humans would've wiped us all out. He was _not_ the one who freed us. Without the kid's help, all our dust'd be mixin' with the dirt. Don't forget, little bro. It was a human that saved us, not your King." I actually have him stumped for a moment. His brow is raised in disbelief before he collects himself and applies a Class Two Disapproving Papyrus Sneer.

     "You really are soft, aren't you? You've been spending far too much time amongst human sympathisers. Do you truly believe that the actions of one human child are enough to forgive everything that their species has done to us? The way they still treat us, even now? Humans are our enemies, and they always will be." He says it with finality and it's my turn to be lost for words. I clear my throat.

     "H-how. How can you say that? After everythin' they did for us, y'say it doesn't matter? I-if one human can have the determination to free us all, they... they _can't_ be the only one who doesn't hate us." That comes out sounding a lot more hopeless than I meant it. But I know we're both thinking what I say next by Papyrus' silence.  
"If nobody up here gives a shit about our existence, what's the point of bein' here at all?" Papyrus frowns.

     "Brother, that is not-..."

     "No, Paps. It's important. Why do we stay here? Why do we gotta live lives up here, fightin' amongst ourselves and against humans, when before we were only fightin' each other. Why don't we go home?"

     "This is home, now. We can't go back Underground!"

     "Why? 'Cause that means we're admittin' defeat?"

     "Because. Because we-... we just can't! We have the sky, now. Isn't that what you wanted, Sans?" Papyrus' voice sounds less rough than usual. He actually looks concerned.

     "I can't see the sky when my face keeps gettin' pushed into the dirt. We can't keep fightin' on all fronts, Paps." I fiddle with the band of my headphones where they lie around my neck.  
My bro sighs, and raises his hand again. It makes me flinch, but he just puts it on my shoulder. Gently. He looks at me, and he's not visibly angry any more. When he speaks now, it's almost comforting. Almost like he was before everything.

     "Sans. We won't have to fight forever. We will earn our place here and the humans will come to respect us. Asgore's way is the only way we will ever be recognised and accepted."

     I shake my head, looking at my kneecaps through the rips in my jeans. "It's been two years. Nothin's changed since we got here. Humans aren't ever gonna accept us."

     "They might yet, Sans. Just give it time." He takes his hand off my shoulder. "I know you have yet to find your place here, but you will. And your place isn't in the company of rebels and killers."

     I give him a look that asks him to reevaluate that. "I am a killer, Paps. EXP sticks faster than dust." It's an old saying. Don't know where it came from, but it keeps Papyrus quiet a bit longer. When he doesn't have anything to say, I stand up from the kitchen chair and move towards the door.  
     "I'm done. I've got a job to go to."

     That stirs him from his thoughts. "You mean you have some more EXP to collect? Just because you're already a killer, doesn't mean that's all you can do, brother."

     "I'm not good for anythin' else. And don't worry, I'm not gonna dust anyone."

     Papyrus strides over to the door faster than I can get there, and braces his hand over to the wall in a swift movement to stop me leaving.  
     "It's like human Frisk said. Anyone can be a good person, if they just try. Make the right choice, brother." He's being weird. He's never this sensible about things. I mean, he's not wrong, but that's what makes it worse. I can't do this any more today.

     "See ya, boss." I 'port straight out. I know he's gonna be angry about it later, but that's later. Right now, I gotta be out of the house.

     I'm way too early for work, it's still light out on the street, and I'm not even wearing my work suit. So what to do? I guess I can just go to Hugh's. But I don't feel like getting there early today. Just in case any of the human gits are there before Undyne's dogs arrive. The humans tend to stop trying to be threatening as soon as there's more than a couple of monsters around, but on my own they'll almost certainly try to start something. I can't deal with asshole humans and their slurs just yet.  
     I'll just take my time getting there, I think. If I don't use any shortcuts, it'll take me a good half hour to get there. But that does mean one dreadful thing... I gotta take the subway.

     I don't know how humans do it every day. It feels like being trapped back Underground, but worse for the presence of hundreds of bustling human bodies, and the sounds of their clamour and the mechanical creaks and screeches of the trains. The air tastes like metal and oil. I put my headphones on as I head towards the entrance down into the hellish place, steeling myself. If I turn my music up loud, at least that means I can ignore a portion of the human presence. As I fast-walk down the hallway towards the escalators, humans trying to maintain their distance from me on all sides, a flash of colour in my peripheral vision catches my eye.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     You're strutting along to the heavy beat of the music playing through your headphones. You navigate easily, subconsciously dodging through the mass of commuters. You love taking the subway. It feels so alive, like the arteries of the city. A place of change and choices. You move effortlessly through the hallways while people all around you rush and worry and jostle each other. You're focussed in on your path until someone to your left knocks you roughly and your other shoulder scrapes the wall.  
     You pull down your headphones and turn to throw them a glare, when you see why it is that they pushed you. They were trying, over-dramatically in your opinion, to get out of the way of someone coming down the hallway. That someone is wearing a battered jacket with a fur-lined hood, red headphones, and is glaring down at the floor with glowing crimson pupils. Despite the cramped space in the subway tunnel, most people are still trying to avoid coming within a meter of his broad form.

     "Really? He's just a skeleton." You give the idiot who walked into you a withering look and a shake of your head before reapplying your headphones and stepping out into the space the monster leaves in his wake.

     It doesn't take you long to catch him up; he isn't walking very fast, like he's reluctant to be going anywhere. You fall into step right next to him and match his pace. You make sure to catch a few eyes of people standing to the side, gormlessly waiting for him to go past. Anyone would think that this _wasn't_ a city full of monsters.  
     It takes him a moment to notice someone is walking in step with him, and then he glances up and raises his brow bones at you for a moment, like he has no idea what to make of you. Eventually he decides on giving you a tiny smirk of recognition, a disbelieving shake of his head, and then goes back to walking with his head down.

     You keep his slightly slower pace for a while. It's admittedly a lot easier to walk down here when everyone steps out of the way of your travel companion. You realise you don't remember what his name is. It started with an 'S' right? It was something weird... Oops. Well, he doesn't actually look like that much of a talker, so it shouldn't be a problem.  
     Actually, he almost looks downtrodden. Shoulders forward, head down and tucked into his collar. He's not sauntering like he was in the street when you first saw him. Maybe it's the benefit of having his buddies with him that made him seem so confident at the bar? You're actually really struggling to get a read on this guy, and it's not just because he's not human. Your first impression gave you some concern that you should steer clear of him, and you categorised him alongside all the other dangerous, vile people in Ebott, but now you think that that's maybe exactly what he wants people to think. Like he's giving off that aura so that people will leave him alone.

     You end up splitting up from the skeleton when he slows to check his route, not wanting to risk coming across as overly friendly by waiting for him. You don't see him again in the crowd. You are almost disappointed. It's not like you won't see him sometime later anyway. Apparently he and his friends are regulars at Hugh's, as your last week or so of work tells you. But travelling alongside him just for that short time gave you a new perspective. You'd wondered why monsters never seemed to use public transport or traverse the streets in the day...  
     It makes a bit more sense now. You can't totally convince yourself that having people move out of your way on the street would be a good thing. It might seem appealing, to never have to wait in a queue or fight for a space on the train, but actually it would be very lonely.

     You ponder this to pass the time until your stop. It's so wrong, that people are automatically afraid of the monsters. The local legends and stories made them seem to be fearsome beasts who would steal the souls of humans - their prey. But despite all the very real physical evidence to the contrary, the general population is still more terrified than intrigued. It's been two years. This really shouldn't be happening any more. It fills you with a furious energy, and a feeling that you have to set this right. Not like you could change anything beyond the opinions of a few nervous commuters anyway...

     Someone bumps your shoulder where you stand by the carriage door. You look up when they don't step away from your personal space again, and your heart clenches. The man who nudged you is looking at you sideways, as if pretending not to notice he's right in your space, and he's smiling with an unwholesome grin, set on an equally unpleasant, sallow face you recognise all too well. You remove your headphones.

     "Michael?"

     "Hey, Amy. How's life?"

     You huff and look back out of the window into the blackness of the tunnel. Your skin is crawling from the closeness of him, your pulse quickening and your fingernails digging into your palms, but you are in a train carriage full of people. You can't go anywhere, and he can't do anything. Apart from call you by your real name and unnervingly remind you of the past, of course.

     "You're gonna ignore me? Aren't we friends any more?" He sounds upset, but you're sure if you turned to look he'd be wearing that same expression of twisted entertainment. You cross your arms, resolved not to show him even an ounce of fear.

     "We weren't friends _ever_. I made it obvious I never liked you. Get out of my space, Mike." He doesn't move, of course.

     "Aww, come on, Ames. You're killing me here."

     "Not yet, I'm not." You warn. You're only half kidding. This arsewipe is a remnant of a life you left behind three years ago. People like him are the reason you use a strange, fake name that's difficult to track. Looks like he found you anyway. Wait, how _did_ he find you?  
     "Have you been _following_ me?" You look at him in disgust. Yeah, he's still smiling.

     "You're pretty obvious with those headphones on, babe. Just because you started dressing like a normy doesn't make you invisible." Michael goes to put his arm around your shoulders, which you avoid by stepping back against the carriage wall. Your chest is tight. To your relief your station comes into view at that moment. You keep your distance, locking Michael with a glare like a cornered animal until the train stops.  
     As you sidestep to get out of the door, Michael reaches for your wrist and is dragged with you with a scuffle as you try to escape. Your muscles freeze up for a moment, caught somewhere between fear and anger, your eyes stinging. But something else on the station catches your eye and the panic leaves you. Broad shoulders, fluffy collar. Salvation. He must have caught the same train as you after all. You smartly twist your wrist out of your harasser's slimy fingers and make a swift beeline through the crowd, knowing that Michael isn't far behind. In this one case, it's better the devil you _don't_ know.

     You follow the monster as he heads for the escalators back out of the subway. As you reach them, there's the usual shoving of the crowd rushing to get to their individual, very important destinations. Anyone would think there was a fire. You're unnerved knowing how close your pursuer must be behind you what with your obstructed pace, but you miraculously reach the bottom of the escalator at the same time as your only viable defence against Michael.

     The skeleton has put his hood up, probably so that he doesn't get so much attention, and it does seem to be working. People aren't really trying to get away from him like they were before. This close, you can really see how intimidating he could be... which is exactly what you could do with right now. He dwarfs you in height, the top of your head only barely reaching up to his chest, and his shoulders are wide and sturdy. You can feel his warmth where his arm touches yours in the small gangway. Shouldn't skeletons be cold?

     You struggle for what to say to get his attention. You sort of need to initiate a conversation so that Michael can see who you're standing next to. Looking back over your shoulder he's still there, though further behind, and he's still smiling at you like he's won first prize. Which is fine. He won't be smiling much longer. So you nudge the skeleton's arm with yours to get his attention. He looks up reluctantly with a fiery glare, and then gives you an expression filled with surprise and obvious relief when he sees you properly from under the rim of his hood. You caught him a little off-guard, if that reaction is anything to go by. His face is so _incredibly_ expressive.

     He pulls his hood and headphones down together and nods in greeting with a nervous chuckle, turning towards you and somehow attempting to put some space between the two of you on the escalator, but it's impossible with how broad he is. How can _he_ be nervous of you? These roles are totally backwards in your mind. But then, you are all for breaking stereotypes. You smile widely at him, trying to convince him to keep talking to you by attempting to radiate friendliness.

     "Hello again!"

     His eyes search your face with a squint and flick down over the rest of you briefly before he makes some decision and replies. His shoulders relax as he speaks.  
     "Hey, would'ya look at that? Seems like I'm goin' up in the world." He gives you a very toothy grin and tips his head to indicate the escalator. You're so distracted by the fact that you can feel his voice through your shoulder when he speaks that you almost don't realise his one-liner. You manage to regain yourself with a snort of laughter and a shake of your head.

     "W-well damn, me too!" You wink, and he bursts out laughing. It really is a good noise, genuine, deep and rough, but somehow so reassuring after your harrowing train journey. You feel it more than you hear it, like the purr of a cat. People near to you on the escalator shuffle uncomfortably. Looking back briefly and maintaining a toothy grin to match the skeleton's, you catch the fear and defeat in Michael's eyes. Narrowly avoided a horrible situation - ten points to Vespa. You feel slightly guilty for using your acquaintance's appearance to scare Michael away, but you can forgive yourself, since you are utterly grateful to the skeleton for being so scary-looking. If anything, his appearance just adds to his appeal as company.

     His arm moves up to rub the back of his skull. "S-so, you headin' to Hugh's?" He says awkwardly. Did he just stutter? This creature is a living contradiction.

     "Oh, uh-" You automatically go to deflect the question somehow, but catch yourself. Your instinctive barriers against strangers are firmly in place. Be nice, Ves. Even if he's completely oblivious to it, you owe this guy one. "...Yup, my shift starts soon. You headed there too?"

     "Yeah. Heh." He seems lost for what to say. You can relate. Small talk is terrible. He pipes up again after a moment though. "Hey, uh. I don't think I ever got your name?"

     God dammit. You were hoping you wouldn't actually have to give away anything about yourself that he didn't already know. He's just some regular at Hugh's, and you aren't sure yet whether he's a murderous criminal or a severely misunderstood, but gentle giant. His little glowing pupils are looking down expectantly. He's not gonna let you sidestep this question, isn't he? Well, here goes nothing.

     "It's. Amy. Amy Barrett."

     You try not to feel guilty. There is a reason you live under an alias, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today on her walk, Vespa was listening to The Clockmaker by Vexare
> 
> [Hit me up on tumblr!](http://crescentmoogle.tumblr.com/)


	6. Lawbreaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is long heckin' ride.  
> I've been really looking forward to this one...
> 
> I tried to crop it down because it got quite long, but then... who doesn't want larger servings of Sans being a complete idiot?
> 
>  
> 
> (I definitely want that)

     "...and I'm almost certain that he was hitting on me as we left."

     "No way. Okay, no. I don't believe that part." Your companion hides her mouth with her spare hand as she takes a sip of her tea.

     You're sitting with your long-time friend Lucy in the little café you meet at once a month to catch up. Your lives have carried you some distance from each other, but you manage to keep in touch. She's a reserved woman with cropped, mousy hair and pale skin. Your father had been friends with hers, growing up, and you have a lot in common. Her pretty, sky blue eyes gaze at you from behind elegant glasses.

     "What? You'll believe that I work in a gangster dive, and that a ghost from the past is tailing me, but not that a skeleton tried to hit on me?"

     "Ves." Your friend gives you a look. "I can believe you'd be totally at home working in a bar full of criminals. And Michael... is a creep. But I've never seen you let _anyone_ get away with flirting with you."

     You smirk and give her an eyebrow wiggle. "Maybe I like monsters more than humans."

     "Or maybe it's just this monster in particular you're fine with?"

     You snort at her wry smile. "Ha! You know what though, he is pretty cool. I bet you'd love him. He's sort of like... You remember that undead guy with the red trench-coat from that game when we were in school? The one you had a huge crush on?"

     Lucy looks sheepishly down at the seat of your shared sofa with a sigh. "Yeah... Of course I remember."

     "Yes! That guy. Oh god, I can't unsee the similarities now..."

     Lucy shuffles on her seat, before she finds a way to change the subject. "Okay, but back on track. What's it like being surrounded by monsters?"

     "I'm not surrounded by monsters." You chuckle. "You make it seem like Ebott is suddenly a monster-only city."

     "That's how the news makes it seem..." She shrugs.

     "Nah. I mean. There are monsters. But I think they're mostly nocturnal? I heard that some of them are still struggling with agoraphobia, and they just aren't used to seeing the sky and the sun, so going out during the day is difficult for them. And then there's the fact that humans still treat them like they're gonna turn around and eat someone."

     Lucy raises her eyebrows. "Really? They still believe all the old stories?"

     You and Lucy were both born in Ebott, but your father moved you away for his work when you were in your teens, and Lucy's career had drawn her and her family away too, eventually. Still, you both grew up being told the stories of the monsters that hid in the mines and caves that ran beneath the nearby mountains.  
     It never stopped the two of you and many other children like you from escaping to explore the foothills as soon as you were old enough to know how to get the bus out of the city. You'd go hunting for caves and hiding in wait for the monsters, until you both got angry reprisals from your parents when they caught on to where you were going at the weekends.

     "It's not like people truly believe all that stuff about the monsters." You explain. "It's just that it's hard to shake old superstitions, I guess? If you didn't know them, the few monsters I've actually met could come across as intimidating. But they're just people, y'know?"

     "Just really interesting people with magic powers, who look like all our mythical creatures." Lucy looks a bit envious, staring off and most likely imagining all the monsters that have become a normal sight to you every day.

     "They aren't allowed to use their magic, sadly." You pull a face.

     "I heard. Isn't it a part of their very existence though? It's not as simple as just turning it off." Lucy asks.

     "I don't know? I haven't seen any evidence that they need magic to survive, but I guess if you're used to being able to summon fires with your bare hands or fly or whatever, living without it is going to be hard..."

–––––

     You're still thinking about it on the journey home, as you stare at the blurry lights going past through the train window. How do the monsters cope with not being able to use magic? Surely they still use it in private, right? It'd be akin to asking modern humans to cope without electricity; it just wouldn't be possible. But you suppose that depends on how they use it.  
     You know that a lot of monsters can use some kinds of healing and fire magic to greater and lesser extents, but otherwise, it's a mystery to you.

     You find your mind drifting to the monsters you've seen recently. How does your skeleton acquaintance use his magic? Can he create fires and summon talking skulls out of thin air? Maybe he's like a reaper, and he could stop your heart with a click of his fingers?  
     What about that fish-woman? Can she control water, or could she maybe sing someone into a trance like a siren? You... aren't really sure what a dog monster could do. Maybe they're really good at tracking a scent? Since you've been at Hugh's none of them have indicated what their powers might be.

     It's late and very cold when you get home, just after 11pm. You input the door code and head up to your apartment, avoiding the elevator despite your tired legs. In the corridor to your apartment, there is one of the few things in the whole world that could possibly stop you from rushing for the warmth of your home.

     There's a white cat.

     One of those long-furred ones that looks terminally grumpy. It stands and glares at you with beady blue eyes when you reach the top step. You politely crouch down and edge a little closer to it, holding out your hand and making little clicks with your mouth to encourage it towards you. It stands completely still for a long moment, eyeing you disapprovingly before deciding that your presence in its Realm is acceptable. Cats are great. It pads over silently and sniffs you.

     It takes a good ten minutes of sitting still for the cat to actually let you touch it. The fur is incredibly soft, and someone clearly looks after the creature very well. As you stroke it, you can feel its ribs and spine just enough to tell it's healthy and not overfed. This building is one of the few in the area that allows its residents to keep pets, and it's one of the reasons you chose to live here in the first place. The little old black cat you had owned when you moved here died only a few months ago, and you sorely miss the feline company. The white cat pushes against your hand and makes a little 'meep' noise.  
     You wonder which apartment it belongs to.

     You ruffle at the downy fur at its neck, which it appreciates thoroughly. It has a red collar with one of those cat flap magnet things on. You locate the tag and check it quickly before the cat gets uncomfortable with you holding it this way.

     The tag is bone-shaped. Why would you give a cat a tag designed for a dog? On one side of it, it says 'No.7 Searise, Buddleia Rd, Ebott'.

     "Really? You belong to those guys?" You ask the cat. Amazing really, that they can have such disregard for their neighbours, but keep another living creature with such care. You flip the tag over. Engraved in 'Papyrus' font, in all capitals, it says 'DOOMFANGER'. You can't help but laugh aloud at that. What the heck kind of name is that for a cat? Who _are_ these people?! The soft, white ball of fur named Doomfanger makes another sweet little noise and nudges you back into giving it attention.

     "What a life you must lead, huh, Doomfanger?"

     " _Doomfanger?!_ " Comes a shocked voice from the stairwell behind you. You jump, as does the cat, and you both turn to glare at the intruder for disturbing your petting time.

     ...Oh. Wait. What?

     Your mind goes into overdrive. Eye sockets lit by red pinpricks narrow at you accusingly, and the air pressure in the corridor seems to increase drastically.

     "Wh-? It's you! Are you followin' me?" The besuited skeleton covers the distance to you as you stand up, your mind still processing.

     "What? Wait, no, I-! _Augh!_ "

     He doesn't let you finish. Sensing the aura of danger the skeleton has around him, your adrenaline kicks in and you register too many things at once. The monster grips your shoulder and pushes you back against the wall, hard, knocking the breath out of you and pinning you in place. You hear the cat at your feet growl at the sudden aggression and scamper away. Your ears pop as if you were in an aeroplane. The lights flicker in the hallway. He smells like smoke and spices.

     Your body goes into fight or flight mode and your years of self defence training activate without you even having to think. In a split second, you pull him towards you by his shirt front, taking him by surprise. He can't lock the arm that's holding you in place from this angle, and you lift your free hand and use the back of your forearm to forcefully knock his elbow outwards, slipping his grip from your shoulder enough to twist beneath and escape. You silently thank your training partner Silas for teaching you how to do that.

     "Wait-" You put up your hands towards the skeleton. He isn't listening, clearly _seeing red_. That's all you are capable of thinking before he snatches for you again.

     You dodge easily. He's between you and your door, and the stairs are behind you now. You realise that your keys are lying on the floor where you were sitting. What to do? Use your surroundings. You need to get behind him and reach your keys on the way to the door.

     You make a feint for the stairs, but he doesn't snatch for you as you'd hoped. He just stands his ground, one of his eyes flaring an infernal red as you make your escape. You make it three steps down before your stomach lurches and you think you're falling. You put out an arm to protect you, but then your back goes flat against a surface, roughly, and winds you again. Your ears are full of static. You have less than a second to realise you're _on the ceiling_ before your stomach twists again and you find yourself hurtling towards the other end of the hallway. The impact forces a wheezing yelp out of you.

     You try to say something, though you have no idea what. His voice cuts you off.

     "What the hell're you doin' here, lady?"

     "H-holy shit..." Is all you manage with a disbelieving laugh as your mind reels. Magic? This is magic, right? He growls, and you can sense from the noise that he's standing some distance from you. You breathe steadily, trying to recover, face pressed to the wallpaper. Your ribs and chest ache, almost certainly bruised. You try to speak again.

     "Listen. I live here, okay?" You sound calmer than you are.

     "What?" He pauses. When he speaks again, he sounds less sure of himself. "S-seriously?" There's that stutter again.

     "Yeah, my keys are right there if you don't believe me."

     You hear him moving, and then the sound of your keys jingling. The ethereal grip on you doesn't release. It feels like gravity is pulling you the wrong way at about twice the normal strength. You can lift yourself a tiny amount away from the wall, but it's like trying to do press-ups with someone sitting on your back. You sigh. You can't hear the monster moving now.

     You wait for something to happen, but it doesn't. The pressure on you doesn't waver.

     "You're from Number 7, aren't you?" You ask him.

     "H-how'd you know?" He's closer than he was before, his voice a wary growl as if you'd startled him.

     "That's your cat, right? You knew its name."

     "Not mine... She's my brother's." Huh. So he lives with his brother? So that's sibling angst you can hear all the time. His brother must be the obnoxiously loud one, since you're sure you would have recognised the other sibling's voice by now if it was him doing the yelling.

     You groan as you fail to lift yourself away from the wall again. "Please can you let me go now?" As much as you want to retaliate for being attacked, you know you won't get out of this alive if you can't pretend to be reasonable.

     "Ah, shit." He says quietly. You sense the pressure on you releasing in time to brace for the realigning of your personal gravity, and your hands and knees meet the ground without much pain. What the heck. So _that's_ what his magic does? You turn to face the skeleton.

     He's. Gone...?

     Your keys lie on the floor, all the lights in the corridor have blown, leaving only the dim light filtering in from the stairwell, and there's no sign of your neighbour anywhere. The door to Number 7 is shut. You don't have the mental capacity to deal with this right now. You retrieve your keys and head dazedly inside.

     Well. That certainly warmed you up.

     You make it to the sofa just as you feel yourself go faint. That'll be the adrenaline wearing off. You sit with your head in your hands, waiting for the feeling to pass. Your right arm is throbbing from where you broke the skeleton's hold on you. He's _strong_.

     It takes you a while to notice the feeling of sticky warmth on your lip. You put a hand to it. Ah, nosebleed! You gingerly make your way to the kitchen sink and lean over it, turning on the tap and waiting for it to warm while holding the bridge of your nose. It must have been caused by the random changes in air pressure that you could feel. Magic is nothing like you'd expected. Awesome.

     There's a tentative knock at the door.

     "Who is it?" You run your hands under the tap and begin to wash your face.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     I hear her reply over the sound of running water.

     "It's Number 7." I really don't wanna do this, but I fucked up. We aren't meant to use magic, if she tells someone, I could be arrested... and I know what they do to monsters in there. My magic thrums uncomfortably in my head, and I have to shove my hands in my pockets to stop them shaking.

     "Just a minute." She sounds flat, but not angry or scared.

     When she answers the door, I look up and... she's bleeding! I catch the scent of it before I see it. There's blood on her hand and she's holding a wad of reddened paper over her nose and mouth. I didn't think I'd hurt her that bad! I really didn't! Humans are physically tougher than monsters, and she's got a lot of HP, so I thought... She raises her spare hand, stopping my thoughts.

     "Whoa, it's fine. Just a nosebleed." She smiles, though I can only see her eyes crinkle at the corners. She backs away from the door to indicate that I come in. Why is she letting me in? Isn't she scared of me? She speaks up as she watches me enter.

     "I'm pretty sensitive to air pressure. Your magic messing it around probably set the nosebleed off or something. I guess that's not something you monsters ever have a problem with?" She takes a sarcastic tone and raises her eyebrows at me. What's with this girl? From the time she passed me on the street, to the aggressive post-it notes, to all the time at Hugh's, to the current situation. She should be _terrified_. There's a nasty, violent skeleton standing in her neat little kitchen, she's got all the pieces to the puzzle that tell her exactly what I am, and she's treating me like I just broke a window or something. She really is stupid.

     She raises her hand and indicates her sofa across the other side of the room, breaking through my thoughts again.

     "You can sit down. I'll be right there." Her voice is indisputable, but kind like her soul.

     I don't really know what the fuck to make of all this, so I do as she says. I gotta convince her not to blab about the magic somehow, so I don't have much choice. Though it's looking like she's gonna be tough to threaten into silence...

     I take in her room briefly. It's just about the same layout as ours, but somehow so much nicer. It's got that neatly lived-in look. There's a huge TV on a wooden unit with loads of consoles underneath, and a coffee table with all the controllers for said consoles arranged in neat, straight lines. The sofa I'm sitting on is tidy too, and covered in cushions and soft throws. There are posters on one wall full of pictures of humans wearing capes and armour, of strange ships flying though starry expanses and blue skies, and even some of weird-looking monsters. A board with loads of photographs pinned to it hangs there too.

     Amy comes and sits on the floor, facing me, and there's no blood on her now. She gives me an odd look that I can't understand. Her lips are pursed together in a thoughtful sideways smile while she stares at me.

     "I didn't mean to scare you." She eventually says. I gawp at her.

     "Are you kiddin' me? Lady, I'm the one who should be sayin' that."

     "I guess so." She shrugs. She looks uncomfortable, but not nervous.

     "Look, the hell were you doin' out in the hallway this late at night anyway?"

     She squints. "It's not like it's that late. And I was petting a cat - which I am entitled to." She says it pretty harshly, shaking her head to dismiss it. Like that should be the most obvious reason for being sat on the floor in the corridor at eleven at night. Something about her demeanour reminds me of Boss just then. She's fiddling with her wrist and frowning off to the side, not looking at me properly, jaw set, posture straight as a board. It puts me on edge just by association. But I don't need to be afraid of her.  
     I lean forward and lower my voice threateningly, parting my teeth enough to make them more visibly dangerous. She has to back down.

     "Well, it was fuckin' stupid, kid. Aren't humans meant to sleep at night?"

     To my discomfort she leans forward too, mirroring my threatening tone. She even bares her own pathetic teeth as she replies. She's too close.

     "I could ask you whether monsters are meant to sleep in the day. Just because some humans do, doesn't mean you can stereotype us." She gives me a smirk that has no kindness in it and makes me feel rotten. Green souls can be brutal when they want to.

     "...I really don't think that's a relevant subject of conversation right now though." She continues. Her voice has gone assertive and stone cold, shutting down my retorts before I can voice them. "It isn't illegal for me to be out of doors at night, but it _is_ illegal for you to be using magic. So..."

     Oh, I'm in trouble. Time for some insincere diplomacy. I cut in.

     "D-did I hurt you? Heh... I mean. I know I hurt you, you're a human. But. Y-you-uh..." Nice one Sans. There was an attempt in there somewhere. Why am I struggling? Humans are usually so easy to mess with, by virtue of being unable to read my expressions and being too scared to retaliate.

     Amy gives me this weird look with one eyebrow raised. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" She stares me down, green eyes narrowed.

     "W-what's what suppose'ta mean?"

     "Does that mean you hurt me on purpose because I'm human, or are you saying I was more likely to get hurt because I'm a human?" Her bitterly disapproving tone takes me by surprise.

     "I-I didn't. It's not like that, I just meant..." She's staring at me now, really intensely, like she's evaluating me, and it's a look that says I gotta choose my next words carefully. Why should I be afraid of a weak, tiny human anyway?

     "I o-only meant 'cause you can't fight back like a monster would. Y-you're so small an' you got no claws and your teeth are all blunt a-an' I... I think I'm gonna stop talkin' now..." Fucking idiot. What's wrong with me? I hate that stupid stutter and how I feel my bones aching from the threat of a hostile presence too near to me. She's so damned _close_ and it's throwing me off.

     She snorts, but it's not a sound of annoyance like Boss always makes. She thinks I'm funny? "You have no idea, Mister Skeleton..." She stops there, still leaning forward, and doesn't say anything else, just looks at me straight in the eye sockets, and she doesn't even blink.  
     If I didn't know better, I'd say she was reading me. It makes my soul squirm in my ribcage, even though I know she can't see it. I clear my throat, but she doesn't react. I need to break the silence somehow.

     "U-uh. Kid? You okay?"

     Her face softens. "I'm alright. Just..." She goes quiet and I don't feel like I want to interrupt. She's got me pinned down, terrified of what she'll say next. She's gonna say about the magic, tell me she has to report me, isn't she?  
     " _Shit_ , you got me good!" She exclaims, making me jump. "You're totally overpowered, you know that?" She gives me the same fearless grin she gave me on the street the first time we met.

     "I didn't mean t-ta... You ain't pissed off?"

     "Not really?" She rethinks that. "Okay... Maybe a bit. I mean, it was way over the top, but I can't say I wouldn't have done the same to someone I thought was stalking me; that is, if I _could_ throw someone that far." She shrugs. I release a breath I didn't realise I was holding.

     "L-listen. I didn't mean ta use magic like that. It was instinct, y'know? I-If you..."

     "I get it, it's alright."

     "Is it?" It can't be that easy.

     She chuckles at me. "Sure it is. That was amazing."

     I feel my face heat up at that. Wait, no, what? How was what I just did amazing in any way? I think I must have missed something. But she's still smiling at me.

     "You're not gonna tell anyone?"

     "Hmm..." She makes a show of thinking about it, mocking me. "Nope. It was at least a little bit my fault, anyway. I won't tell anyone, but..." Of course she wants something in return for her silence. What did I expect? "...you gotta chill out, okay?"

     "H-huh?"

     "You gotta chill out. I don't scare very easily and I don't care about the magic, but you can't go around using it on people. Even if I had been following you, you can't react by altering gravity without thinking about what you're doing." She's giving me a look of gentle amusement. Damn, I _hate_ kind souls. Pretentious, self-assured assholes, every single one of them.

     "How d'you know it's gravity magic?" I ask accusingly.

     "Uh... That's just what it felt like." She frowns. "So it is gravity control?"

     "...Yeah." I pause. Come on, just get it over with. "S-sorry."

     She isn't even listening. Apology unaccepted.

     "That's so cool! So," she fixes me with a squint. "Can you change the gravity of anything?"

     "What?!" I think I must be losing it. She honestly cares more about _how_ I threw her soft, flimsy body down the hallway?

     "...can you change the gravity of really big objects, or really tiny ones, or is there a limit on how far you can move something, or what kinds of things-"

     "Amy! For fuck's sake, hold up!"

     She flinches and looks down at her knees. I didn't finally manage to scare her, did I?

     "Look, just let me think a minute, okay?" I breathe out deeply and put my head in my hands. My mind is all twisted up and I can't think properly. She stays quiet until I feel ready to talk. "Right. I just gotta get this straight in my head. You really ain't gonna tell anyone?"

     She looks up at me and seems to remake the decision, and then she stands up and comes to sit next to me. I can't avoid seeing her soul glimmering from this close. It resonates with her words as she speaks, and she can't possibly know, but it proves she's telling the truth. My very existence thrums anxiously at the closeness, and I try to move as far back in the seat as I can.

     "I'm not going to tell anyone you used magic on me. Okay?" She speaks gently but firmly, and she really is looking at me. She doesn't avoid my eyes like most humans do. In fact, she follows them with hers. I can see her pupils moving left to right and back again, focussing on one of my eye lights and then the other. Her gaze burns into me. It's wrong, being this close to a human.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     Oh goodness. He's so silly. This massive skeleton is sitting on your sofa, scared out of his wits that you're gonna report him for assault or something. Isn't he meant to be a gangster? How can he be afraid of you, stuttering and keeping his distance and getting defensive. He awkwardly shies away from your gaze.

     He looks like he's going to explode from anxiety. You really don't know what to think of him. Is the whole big scary monster thing just a front? But then, he really is just as big and powerful as he'd like you to think, and he has the potential to terrify anyone he wants to. Why come and apologise rather than blackmailing you or something?

     Being this close to him is making you anxious just due to proximity. You gotta calm this idiot down somehow.

     "Let's start from scratch."

     "How d'you mean?" He glances sideways at you.

     "Let's restart. Forget all the insane stuff that just happened?"

     His face falls and he gives you this look of glazed terror that is totally the opposite of what you were aiming for. You hold out your hand anyway.

     "Nice to meet you, new neighbour. I'm Vespa."

     He stares at your hand like it might turn into a tentacle or something, but you don't move. You feel like you're trying to tame a wild animal you found on your doorstep. He very, very slowly takes your hand, frowning. He's incredibly warm, but aside from that he pulls away far too quickly for you to get a good register on his bony palm.

     "Didn't you say your name was Amy?" He questions.

     You try not to let your face give anything away as you explain. "It is. But please don't call me that. I prefer the name Vespa. That's what everyone calls me."

     "Oh, s-sure. Heh."

     "And what about you, Mister Skeleton? What should I call you." You grin. 

     "Red, o-or Sans. I don't mind." He gives an awkward chuckle.

     "Sans... Like sans serif?"

     "Yeah, exactly." He seems surprised that you recognised that.

\-----

     What follows is a perfectly normal and utterly boring, awkward neighbourly introduction. At least it's a conversation with a jittery skeleton rather than an average human. But he does seem like a genuinely good and honest person beneath it all; just some guy who's had it rough for his entire life.


	7. Shade & Neon

     Ouch. That's a bruise and a half. Looks like you're losing your touch a bit with the whole self defence thing... or maybe it's just that you wouldn't normally have to punch solid bone. Your arm took the surprising strength of an angry skeleton and there's now a dirty yellow and purple blemish covering the outside of your forearm. There's a very obvious straight bar across the width of it where the skeleton's bones hit you. Looks like it's going to have to be long sleeves only when you go outside for a good couple of weeks.

     Your ribs don't feel much better, but at least there's no visible damage there. You need to start training with an actual person again if you intend to be able to look out for yourself properly... Where's your training partner when you need him? Oh yeah, he became enviably successful and moved away to do responsible, mature things with his life. Isn't it always the way. Sigh.

     But enough of that. A revelation has been discovered. Your neighbour is a huge, grinning, mildly terrifying skeleton monster and that's just about the most exciting thing that's ever happened. There's someone who's going to love hearing this story.

_**Vespa | 11:53** \- Sooooo you know that asshole neighbour I have_

_**Felix | 11:57** \- 5, 6 or 7?_

_**Vespa | 11:57** \- Ok, forget 5 + 6. If I ever talk about my asshole neighbour from now on I'm talking exclusively about No. 7_

_**Felix | 11:59** \- What happened now?_

_**Vespa | 12:00** \- He pinned me against a wall :P_

     You can't help but smirk. You get yourself into trouble often enough that Felix knows you can handle yourself. If you were actually angry or hurt more than you can handle, he'd have known yesterday, when it happened.

_**Felix | 12:01** \- ...in a sexy way? Or a violent way?_

_**Vespa | 12:02** \- Pass?_

_**Felix | 12:05** \- Ves noooo. did he hurt u?_

_**Vespa | 12:05** \- Nah, I'm good, dw.  
     _ _**Vespa | 12:05** \- Oh also, you know that skeleton dude from Hugh's?_

_**Felix | 12:06** \- Uhh  
_ _**Felix | 12:06** \- I think so???_

_**Vespa | 12:06** \- He lives in No. 7_

_**Felix | 12:07** \- He pinned u against a wall?!?!?_

_**Vespa | 12:07** \- I think he thought I was stalking him. I was actually just abducting his cat._

_**Felix | 12:08** \- Pfft. Vespa. U gotta stop stealing cats girl  
_ _**Felix | 12:09** \- It's gonna get u in trouble  
      **Felix | 12:09** \- Srsly tho, u aren't hurt? I will smack a bitch regardless of species.  
_

_**Vespa | 12:09** \- But Doomfanger is gorgeous and I want her for my own  
      **Vespa | 12:10** \- No, honest. 'Tis but a scratch :P_

_**Felix | 12:11** \- ..._  
_**Felix | 12:11** \- Doomfanger? Rly? That's a cat?_

_**Vespa | 12:12** \- Yup :D_

 

 

 

_**Felix | 12:15** \- U know what. Why was I even worried? Ur gonna fit right in_

     You can't help but agree with that. You want to fit right in beside your skeleton neighbour(s). Red obviously has some issues, but you know crazier humans, and apparently lots of monsters were struggling with their sanity back when they were released from the Underground. That probably comes from being trapped under a rock for generations and ruled over by a tyrannical, murderous goat-man. That would send almost anyone crazy. But things at least _appear_ to be getting better for monsters. Asgore, the monster king, is now kept in his very own prison for his crimes, and there's only a small group of monsters who have stayed loyal to him.

     You still struggle to totally pass it off as Red's paranoia that he was so furious that someone was following him. But it's like you said - if you had gravity control and were a complete badass, you probably would have done the same. No, you _know_ you would, and you'd have enjoyed it too.  
     It'd be nice to be able to defend your home from intruders without getting massive bruises all over your arms and ribs. But you are sadly not magical in any way.

     For now, you wear a loose sleeveless t-shirt so that your sleeves don't aggravate the bruise. Luckily, you have the day completely to yourself for gaming. You spend a few hours first on a long-running playthrough of an open world game, and send the recordings into the cloud for Felix to deal with later. The series isn't your most popular, but what is the definition of popular when you have so few subscribers as it is? One day, you'll make it. One day, you'll be able to share your enthusiasm with people all over the world every morning. You'll make hundreds of people happy every day.

     Today is not that day. After your recording session, you focus on your music for a bit. It's dry on this front too. None of what you're creating is coming out the way you want. There's no inspiration, despite how much you need it right now. You fiddle around with some of the sounds and add a few new ones, but there just isn't the right feeling to it. It always feels like there's something missing.

     Your stomach grumbles. Putting the computer into sleep and unlocking the recording room door, you head to your kitchen. Opening the fridge, you find... nothing. A meagre volume of milk, the stale end of a loaf of bread, some condiments and the occasional sad-looking vegetable. Moving over to the cupboards, it's no better. You have tea though. That counts, right? You boil the kettle, sitting on the countertop to wait for it and checking your bank account on your phone. Sigh. If you want to have rent sorted this month, you can't afford to get food until your first payment comes in from Hugh's in two weeks. You can handle it, though.

     You wonder if you could get Hugh to bring your first pay check forward somehow, while you drink your tea and stare out of the window in the main room.

     Bored. So very bored...

     Within an hour, you are slowly going mad. You need to relieve some energy. So, you get up from your seat and begin moving the furniture.

     You push the coffee table out of your way and bring the colour changing lights in from the recording room. They are hooked up to your laptop and set to run through a steady spectrum of colours in time with your music, which you turn up louder than usual. You play whatever you feel like listening to, switching through completely different genres on a whim. You soak the sensation of it right into your bones and just let it relax you for a moment.

     You haven't heard any sign of your neighbours in Number 7 today, and they're probably out working, so there shouldn't be any problems from them. You turn the music up a notch more, and shut your blackout blinds in the living room. You dance all alone in the space you've made, incorporating capoiera into your movements as you warm up, avoiding putting weight on your injured arm. With some songs you sing along passionately and work out the tension in your mind.  
     After a short while, your battle wounds force you to stop and slow your breathing. Your chest muscles are taut and a sharp pain darts across them when you inhale. Obviously your ribs aren't faring as well as they appeared. Annoying.

     At some point during your cooldown, you notice something interfering with your music. 

     ...

     Maybe the neighbours aren't out like you thought?

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     Can't I get one, _single_ , solitary day's rest? She's playing that goddamned music again.

     She doesn't seem to run any kind of schedule at all. Sometimes it's in early morning, sometimes the middle of the day, and sometimes in the evening. She's always playing that bassy crap and I can't get a solid few hours without worrying she's gonna disturb me with it. I really don't want to have to communicate with her at all after yesterday. I still haven't processed it and thinking about her too hard makes my soul thrum uncomfortably. Fucking humans.  
     I lie there in groggy darkness and listen to it over the hum of my magic. Something lighthearted is playing and I can hear her singing along with the stupid vocals.

     " _...and when you call my name, I won't be far away. No matter where you go, you'll never be alone..._ "

     I keep listening while my body wakes up, and I swear I'm trying to shut it out but the tone of the stuff makes it really difficult to ignore. It's buzzing around in my skull and I'm sure it'll be stuck there all day. What a bunch of crap. I have to shut her up even if I really don't want to see anyone right now, especially not her. I pull myself up from my bed, the bundle I've made out of my covers in my sleep rolling off me onto the floor. Shrug. It can stay there.  
     I don't bother changing. I fell asleep in my clothes anyway... and also, who cares? I try to rub my eye sockets into cooperating, but my eyelights are still fuzzy and I can't see colours properly yet. I shuffle over to my door and head over to No. 8.

     Standing outside the door, I can still hear her singing, though it's to something different now. Her voice is unnecessarily passionate... it's really aggravating, gets right under my skin (heh). I'm gonna have to make her stop.

     I knock loud enough that she'll hear me over the music.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     Oh, dammit. You stop singing. You were sure nobody would complain at this time of day. Can't you have just an hour to chill out properly? It isn't _that_ loud, and it's the middle of the day. You bet it's the douche from Number 6 again. Ew.

     You should _maybe_ turn the music down a tad before you answer the door. Just in case. You're still out of breath and you can feel the heat in your cheeks but it's not like you can keep them waiting until the warmth leaves you. You unlock and open the door to meet two red pinpoints of light. Oh. Well that's much better than Slimy Six at least. You lean against the doorframe casually. Somehow, you know it'll throw him off-balance if you're friendly - he clearly isn't.

     "Hey, Seven. What's up?"

     His voice is rough as he replies. "I think y'know what's up, Eight."

     Well, at least he's using the counterpart nickname to the one you used for him. He can't be that mad then, right? You look him up and down. He looks _terrible_. Actually he looks like...

     "Wait. Dammit, were you sleeping?"

     He isn't responding. He looks like he zoned out, as he's staring vacantly at your side. The lights in his pupils are constricted and bright. Wait. Ugh. You hide your wounded arm behind you quickly, which breaks his gaze and he gives you a strange look that's something between surprise and distrust.

     "Y-you said you were fine!" He growls.

     "What? I am fine." You try to give him a nonplussed shrug but he's not taking it. Great. You hate it when people fuss over you. Should have covered the mark with foundation or something.

     "That's not fine, idiot!" _Rude!_ He sounds angry with you rather than worried.

     You frown. "Uh, sorry? I-"

     "Let me see it." He motions towards your arm.

     "No, seriously it's okay."

     " **Let. Me. See.** "

     Whoa, okay. His voice dropped a good octave there. You've never heard a voice that amazingly deep. You aren't threatened... in fact, you contemplate disobeying him so he'll carry on talking like that. You can almost hear Felix's voice telling you you have no survival instinct. Which isn't true! You just like to test limits. But maybe you shouldn't antagonise this guy until you're sure he won't kill you. You don't stand a chance against him.

     You bring your arm up for him to inspect. His little red pupils roam about your bruised arm, and also for some reason move up to look over the rest of you. It makes your skin tingle weirdly as he does so. Monsters can't... they don't have x-ray vision, do they? He sighs, though it sounds more like a growl.

     "That." He indicates your arm. "Isn't _fine_."

     Yeahhh. You're definitely gonna try and make him talk like that more often. "It's really not a problem." You shrug him off.

     "Look, doll, I've seen... I know what human injuries look like, and that ain't a small one. You can't walk around with it like that." What, does he do this often? Oh. Yeah, you already decided he's a mobster; he probably does this a lot.

     You put your hands out to indicate yourself. "I'm walking around with it right now."

     "Well cover it up or somethin'!"

     You roll your eyes. "You can't tell me what to do, so just. Drop it, alright? I can handle it."

     The skeleton rolls his eyes right back at you, which is pretty interesting, and lowers his voice like someone might be listening in as he retorts. "Someone's gonna ask you how you did that. What're you gonna say?"

     "Ohhh. I see how it is. You're worried someone might find out what you did?" Of course he isn't worried about you. Maybe you should have got some kind of monetary compensation out of this dickhead. Wait, hold up a second. Monsters equals magic, right? And the healing abilities of monsters have been raved about since the day they got here. It's the only type that's sanctioned for use; under strict control of course. Why is he so worried when he can just heal you?

     So, what's it gonna be? Blackmail him for money to survive the rest of the week, or get a personal taste of how healing magic works? There's no choice here.

     "If you're so worried about it, heal me."

     Apparently, the demand takes him by surprise, and he looks at his feet. He scratches the back of his skull with his clawed fingers, making a disconcerting hollow noise.

     "Eh. I'm... maybe not the best at that kind of thing, buddy."

     "But you can do it, right?" You try to look hopeful.

     "O' course I can fuckin' do it." He glares at you like you said something offensive.

     "Then do it." You order.

     "No."

     "Oh, come on." You plead. "If you do, you don't have to worry about our little incident yesterday."

     He stares you down, and you stare right back, getting the opportunity to appreciate how animated those pupils are. If you knew him better, you bet you could tell what he was thinking just from the way those little lights moved. He finally gives in and huffs. "Alright, whatever. But you gotta sit down."

     You nod enthusiastically and lead him in to your darkened apartment, seating your self at the sofa. He sits heavily beside you, a frown firmly in place. He really doesn't like being told what to do, does he? He's sort of fun to interact with, even if his aggression puts you on edge. You offer him your arm uncertainly since you have no idea how this works, but apparently you got it right, since he lifts his hands to it.

     He tentatively puts his hands over the wound, hardly touching you. Again, you're struck by how very warm he is. When he ghosts his palm over your skin, it has about the same warmth to it as a fresh cup of coffee. Your skin is (as always) pretty cold in comparison, so the contact is welcome. He hovers his hand over your wound and you are suddenly very aware of how sharp his clawed phalanges are. He's gonna have to be so gentle...

     But he is. His face is a grimace of concentration, and as he lowers his hand closer, the little lights in his eyes flare to white, and then go out. The air fills with static, like before a storm. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     I'm so bad at this. She has absolutely no idea what she's asking me to pull off here. I'm not meant for it, my magic's just not versatile enough - I'm sitting at the other side of the spectrum when it comes to magic types. I know how it works, I just can't ever muster the right intent for green magic. You gotta want to help someone to be good at it; you gotta be a _good person_. It's like I always say; killing's all I'm good for. Paps is better with green magic than I am, at least his natural colour sits somewhere close to it.

     I don't want this human to know all that though. For some reason her eyes are full of excitement at the thought of me doing this. I don't really care, but she's so enthusiastic about it that I don't want to let her think I can't do it. I don't want to look useless.

     I put my hand over the part of her arm that's gone that nasty off-purple colour that humans do. She says it's not a bad injury but her HP says otherwise. This wasn't done by a magic attack so it can't just get fixed with good rest. And I _know_ how hard she hit my arm. If it hurt me, it definitely hurt her. She looks pretty useless, hardly comes up to my shoulder, but there was some strength behind that retaliation. I'm amazed she didn't come whining about the pain...

     Alright. Gotta fix this. I probably can't get rid of it completely but she doesn't know how well healing magic works, does she? She won't know I'm that terrible at it. Her skin feels horribly smooth and cold when I finally muster the strength of mind to put my hand on her. I hate it. I hate touching people. My ribs feel tight. _'Just don't focus on it'_ , I tell myself.  
     I cycle through magic types until I pull on my meagre green magic reserves. My soul reacts to my call and I do everything I can to focus the uneven hum of power. I've got all this excess energy, but when it comes to healing I just can't manipulate it. I have to put my eyelights out to even gather enough to activate the flow of magic. I channel the pale, pathetically dim magic into a pool in my palm, and my skull is already throbbing from the effort, before something odd happens.

     As the flow of white-green magic reaches her arm, it arcs, like it's reacting to her. I panic, chest tightening further. Is that what it's meant to do? I don't remember, it's been years since I used it.  
     As soon as it makes contact, I sense it beginning to work, feelings of calm and comfort feeding back into my soul. It gets easier. Not just a bit easier either. I hardly have to focus, like I switched on the mechanism and now it's sustaining itself. I can feel it drawing my power, but I'm just letting it go, not forcing it at all. Her body is pulling in the energy like a sponge. I can't say I've actually healed a human before. It must be that that's how they react to magic. That's... Really weird.

     But she's got a stupid smile on her face in the darkness while my now inexplicably bright magic lights the room up and the wound on her arm slowly disappears. Welp. I did what I said I would. Maybe my 'training' has been helping, because I don't even feel tired after I cut off the flow of magic. My soul's pulse returns to a regular rate, and I finally remember to exhale.

     She looks up at me in awe, and her eyes seem like they're glowing with my magic.

     "That was brilliant." She breathes.

     Nobody ever praises me for using magic on them.

     Okay. Yeah. I'll admit that maybe it was worth it for her reaction alone. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vespa's music pick of the day:
> 
> TheFatRat - Never Be Alone


	8. Scraps

     My breath is coming quick and my eyes are locked on to the shape of the escaping human ahead of me. Her grey jacket is easy to follow, occasionally catching the moonlight as she darts between buildings. Her boots splash through the leftovers of today's rain. Undyne's a few steps ahead of me and gaining on her. The little criminal's no match for the yellow-eyed, unstoppable fish woman on her trail. The Shark isn't even breaking a sweat yet, but I'm losing pace. There's no way I can keep up this sprint.

     Since I'm flagging, I have time to see where we're headed. We're being drawn back into 'human' territory, and if this coward leads us past the next block her buddies will be waiting, I'm sure. I make a slash through space and come out just ahead of the girl, who reacts as if she were ready for me and sidesteps. They're getting wise to our magic. A flash of white goes past on my left as G.D makes a barking, furry lunge for the human and tears a gash through her jacket hood, but as she loses her footing she skids, scrambles, and makes the corner of the next building.  
     Undyne overtakes me while I recover, and for one moment I lose sight of the girl and Undyne, before I hear gunshots. Next moment I'm standing on the roof of the building we were nearest to in a crackle of ultramarine magic. I catch my bearings and wait for the intermittent gunfire to stop. As I peer down, I can see Undyne and G.D are all but surrounded. Dogamy and Dogaressa are still some way off, keeping out of sight in the alleyways. I can't risk going down there yet.

     Undyne and G.D are holding their own, spears flying in every direction and lodging in the walls and human bodies for a few seconds before disintegrating, lighting up the alleyway in flashes of neon blue. There's only one human with a gun, the eight or so others are fighting with their hands and batons and knives, working in a chaotic way that makes it hard for Undyne to draw out any of their souls. These humans aren't afraid of us. They're one of the few groups left who stand up to us, they've worked out how to fight monsters without getting their souls exposed and losing to our magic. They know that guns aren't as effective against us and that what really matters is raw intent to kill.

     The original kid who we were chasing down is cowering behind the one with the gun and communicating to her urgently in between gunshots. I could get down there behind her, but I'd only have a few seconds before the other woman got to me. Not worth the risk.  
     Undyne takes out two humans at once by throwing one into the other, and they go tumbling half-conscious down the alley. I rain down a couple dozen bones for good measure which causes plenty of confusion and sends humans sprawling. One of the other humans goes to the floor right in front of G.D and he pounces for him, ripping at his clothing and causing him to scream. Others try to tear G.D away but when he gets frenzied, that dog is a biting, clawing whirlwind. The gun woman stops firing and raises her hands, and the other humans follow suit. G.D is poised with his maw inches above the floored human's face. There's blood on his muzzle.

     I can't hear what the leader woman says from up here, but vague snippets of the human's cold voice travel up towards me. Undyne retorts, and I can hear her clearer. Sounds like they're trying to goad each other into making the next move. Stalemate, looks like. Something catches my eye further into the territory that this lot have claimed as 'human only'.

     A mass of humans are making their quiet way towards the alley from the left side, and Undyne has no idea. There could be five of them, could be twenty, but either way we're outmatched by too much. The smaller unit must have called for backup. This gang only got so brave because they outnumber us massively. We can't win this one. Undyne's gonna hate me for it but I have to get her out.  
     I shortcut back to Dogamy and Dogaressa and give them the sign to make their distraction. Then it's back up to the roof to watch them scurry into position on either side of the exit alleyway, before a number of little blue hearts imitating souls appear, one in front of each human. Human faces contort in terror, and before they can realise they've been tricked, I'm behind Undyne and have her by the elbow. G.D gets the message and swiftly backs up until I can put my other hand on his flank and then we're out. I leave a single gigantic blaster in my wake, just to shake them up a bit.

     We regroup a few blocks away, outside human territory again.

     "Argh! Red, what the _hell_ are you doing! I didn't give you the signal! We had the win right there, and now they think they beat us! We gotta to back in there! Fucking coward!" Undyne lifts me by my collar as she yells and stamps, an agitated hum rising in the back of my mind at the proximity. I have to raise my voice so I won't stutter.

     "No, we didn't have it, boss, they had backup. We were ten seconds from bein' totally screwed and I made the decision to take us out, capiche?"

     "Where was the goddamn backup? I didn't see anyone but the assholes lying all over the floor crying like total losers. You-" G.D cuts her off by barking sharply and Undyne turns, still lifting me off the floor, to see Dogamy and Dogaressa running back to meet us.

     "Good call, Sans. The second pack only just missed us." Dogaressa pants as she levels with us.

     "Yeah, nice one." Dogamy agrees. "Shame we had to use that soul trick though. They'll be expectin' it next time."

     I grab Undyne's cold webbed hands with the points of my phalanges to remind her she's still holding me and she makes a noise of disgust and frustration and drops me onto the damp pavement where my knees sink into the slick of old rainwater. She turns away and throws up her hands dramatically.

     "I can't fucking _believe_ you ruined this one! That bitch back there got away with the trade and we've got nothing to show for it."

     "That ain't true." I correct her. "The contact that girl was meant to be makin' the deal with is bleeding' out in a gutter a few blocks back. I made sure. They didn't gain anythin' from this." G.D barks in reassurance that I'm not lying. The Shark steps back up to me to get right in my face. She doesn't like that I've got her dogs on my side, not at all.

     "Next time," She snarls. I can smell her breath, like salt and spiced rum. "You don't do _anything_ without my say-so, y'hear me, Threepoint?" She uses my HP like a threat, reaching for me, gripping my clavicle so hard I think it might shatter. I mustn't cower away, despite the rising panic.

     "Y-yeah. I hear ya, boss. I hear ya." I try to pacify her.

     There's a long moment where she just stares me down with one vibrant eye before she decides she's over my insubordination for now. She puts enough force into letting me go that I fall to the floor a second time. I heave a breath of relief. The rain has started again.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     You've been polishing the same bar tap for fifteen minutes, staring into the middle-ground hazily. You've nearly made it to payday. Just one more day. It's amazing to you how you can survive on the remains from when you had a stable income. You've hardly eaten apart from the snacks you can snatch from Hugh's and the bits and pieces you've been able to buy on what's left of your savings after you paid your rent. It's amazing how quickly the money disappears, and how quickly you block out the continual pain of an empty stomach. You're actually pretty proud of yourself for managing to make it without help. Nearly there...

     You continue to punish the bar tap for its dullness, though it is the shiniest thing in the bar by now. You aren't paying it any attention really, just waiting for someone to ask you to make them a drink. The place is nearly empty tonight, but for a few small groups of workmen staring into their drinks and escaping from whatever disappointments their lives bring them that force them to be here, sharing half-hearted laughter and tired ramblings.

     There's a lone white dog sitting at the far end of the room, ears alert. You'd assume he were waiting for his master, but he's a monster, and is wearing a suit jacket and a little red bow tie rather than a collar, and sitting upright in a booth near the door. You don't know much about him apart from that he doesn't seem to speak, and carries about his person a long, cruel-looking spear which only appears to exist about thirty percent of the time. He's quite useful for telling when someone is about to enter the bar, since his tail pats against his chair nervously every time someone approaches the door.

     He's doing it now. His little white tail thrashes against the leather seat of the booth and his ears go flat, a second or two before the door is pushed open by another dog, the larger one of the pair who you assume to be brothers. The smaller one rushes up to meet his companion, fussing over him and whining. He licks his brother's muzzle, which is soaked from the rain and marked with russet stains at the mouth. You don't get time to wonder about them, as the two head back to the booth and settle into the corner, out of sight. A moment later, another pair of matching-armoured dogs whom you vaguely recognise enter and speak in hurried, hushed voices to the others, looking nervously about the place.

     A disturbingly visceral crack echoes from outside followed by a bellow of rage, and one of the dogs yelps and grasps the paw of his partner. All conversations cease.  
     The sound summons Hugh out from the back room where he peers around and comes to stand beside you. You put a finger to your lips before he can ask what's happening, your eyes wide, ears straining to work out what's going on outside. You can hear someone talking angrily, and another voice replies, abruptly cut off as the sound comes a second time. You think you can hear the first speaker count aloud - " _Two_ ". Then there's silence, but for the rushing of the rain. One of the mute dogs whines, and one of the talking ones hushes him, saying under his breath that 'it'll be over soon'.

     Hugh ducks behind the bar a moment and silently, surreptitiously draws out the emergency shotgun. It's probably too ancient to actually function and most likely isn't loaded, but that isn't the point. He looks to you, then to the doorway to the back office. You get the message and step back so that you're partially hidden behind the doorframe and Hugh himself, but you don't want to miss what's happening. Everyone sits or stands in silence, waiting. There are often fights outside the bar, but this one sounded bad. One or two of the lone workmen have moved to more protected corners of the bar.

     You wait for a third sound.

     It doesn't come. There is no more noise. What's either more or less unnerving is that the dog monsters haven't drawn any weapons. They're on edge, all of them have their eyes on the door and their ears are alert, but none of them look like there's any real danger. The second pair are still holding paws, and one has her head rested on the shoulder of the other, her dark eyes wide and unblinking. She whispers something and looks up to her partner, and he nods, gets up, and slowly opens the door, heading outside. He closes it softly behind him, and in the breeze from the movement you shiver.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     My eyelights are shaking. Makes me motion sick. I can feel the grit in between my fingers and knee joints from where they'd been pressed into the dirt of the street moments before. There's dust sticking to my ripped and ruined suit trousers where they're damp, and it gives a pearlescent sheen to the black fabric on my left side where two of my ribs are now missing. A dark corner of my mind wishes that she'd broken three. I almost thought she would, but she stopped as soon as my magic flared up.

     Guess she didn't want to get her soul dirty.

     I wonder, if I dusted now, would Frisk still start again? It's been two years. They've set their heart on this timeline. They say this is 'the one'. Would they finally carry on without me, and let me go? Maybe I'll ask them myself, if I can even get in touch.

     A pair of sturdy boots enters my field of vision, and Dogamy lowers a hand for me tentatively as if I might just fall apart right there if he touches me. I take it without really thinking and then regret it when I stand and the remainder of my dust spills out of my jacket and descends over both of us in a cloud. Dogamy releases me and stares at the air around us with mesmerised terror in his eyes, likely picturing some half-forgotten memory from darker times. I brush my clothes down as best I can and trudge back to the bar, Dogamy not far behind.

     'Ressa smoothly hides the concern on her face when we enter and she gets up, going for drinks now that it's over. The Dog brothers don't do such a good job of looking like nothing happened. L.D checks me over visually and G.D tries to read my soul, but I shut him out and flash him a look, sending his ears flat against his head in apology.

     "'M fine." I say. My voice doesn't sound like my own. I feel unbalanced where my torso is lighter on the left side, and I can feel the dust in my clothes. I can't hear or see straight. Breathing is a chore. We all sit in uncomfortable silence a while, until Dogamy decides to head over to his mate at the bar and I realise she's taking a while. I try to focus on them both.

     Dogaressa is talking to Vespa at the bar, and when Vespa sees me looking, she gives me her usual smile, but without the typical mischief. She's not worried though. Why would she give a shit? She turns back to say something to 'Ressa and then ducks out of view for a minute into the back office. When she appears again she presses something into Dogaressa's hand and gives a little nod.

     The duo return with our drinks and 'Ressa sits next to me, silently passing me what Vespa gave to her. It's monster chocolate.

     "Did she just happen to have this lyin' around?" I frown at Dogaressa.

     "Oh, no," she says with a little turn up of her lip in a smile, "The green human told me they keep some monster first-aid since the last time a monster got injured here, just in case." She looks back up in Vespa's direction. "Pretty sweet for a human, that little soul." She licks her lips, and I know exactly what she's thinking. It's the same thing I - and many other monsters, probably - think every time I see Vespa in here or pass her in the hallway, as I have been doing occasionally in the past week or so. _I want that soul_.

     I grunt in resigned agreement, opening up the little foil packet of monster chocolate.

     "She's too fuckin' bright." I grumble as I eat. "I wish she'd keep it down." I feel my couple of precious lost Hope points regenerating immediately. The ribs will take longer, but nobody will notice they're missing while they heal.

     L.D barks, explaining how he thinks that Vespa is a very good colour, like the grass of the dogs' favourite training field. G.D agrees, wagging his tail while his tongue lolls out.

     "Yeah, yeah you two, keep your eyes to yourself." I growl. I don't know why I care that they're looking at her. It's probably because they're dogs, and _everyone_ loves dogs - they got a huge advantage on skeletons. The Dog brothers share a look full of mischief. I huff. The lot of them are anything but threatened by me and my half-hearted annoyance, especially after their boss put me in my place. At least I don't need to feel threatened by them either. They're all Snowdin kids, just like me. Since we've got that unspoken loyalty to a dim, barren forest we called home, they won't turn on me unless Undyne outright labels me their enemy. Even then, I trust these dogs enough not to rip me to shreds. They're good dogs.

     My eyes wander over to the brightest point in the room, back to Vespa and her pretty little soul. Is it me, or is it duller than usual? I focus on the vessel rather than the soul itself and find that she does look different somehow. Paler, less lively. She's moving with less purpose, maybe? Her activities are laboured and without the typical energy she displays most days. Her eyes are dimmer, like her soul. A stab of something sickening I'm not used to runs through me. Concern? Why would I give a shit? I'm just getting anxious because I don't want that light to go out, it's too nice to look at...

     I'm not worried about her, just like she isn't worried about me when she catches me looking and gives me that rare, tender half-smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait my dears. There was a very big, very real-life incident and I had to shut down my electronic responsibilities for a while. All is well again now :)


	9. Troublemaker

     You have the worst headache.

     You worked late yesterday since it was an unusually busy Friday night, which lead to you being awake until very nearly dawn, and now your sleeping pattern is totally ruined. By the time you actually woke up today, you were groggy and confused, and it was dark, which threw you completely and had you getting up in a panic only to find that it wasn't actually that late - the sky has just decided upon today to go on strike.  
     The clouds are a flat, unbroken gunmetal grey. It only recently stopped raining for the first time in weeks and you aren't sure how there can possibly be enough water up there still to produce brooding storm clouds like this. The air pressure and cold, combined with your horrifically unbalanced sleeping pattern and the fact that you're still rationing your food supplies has left you feeling like someone threw you against a wall in your sleep. And you should know how that feels.

     You shiver and aggressively shut your curtains in some act of defiance against the sky. The purple blanket that you wear wrapped around your shoulders for warmth swishes over the floor as you turn on your heel and stalk into the kitchen like a Disney villain. It's a shame that you don't feel any better for being majestic.

     You spend the few remaining hours of the day before work curled up on the sofa cradling a mug of tea and only moving to refill it once it is emptied. You try to get something done, but you end up aimlessly wandering social media sites until you run out of material and the internet begins to repeat itself like some bizarre animal-centric limbo. Where has all your motivation gone to?

     Your mind is mush by the time you have to leave for work. You almost decide to call in sick, but knowing your luck it'll be another busy night. Firstly you don't want to let Hugh down, and secondly you need the money. You throw on your favourite long black jacket over your work clothes and head out. Luckily the sky holds its featureless darkness, and it isn't raining yet.

     As you step out onto the street, inspecting the sky, someone opens the door behind you and you end up blocking their exit and awkwardly apologising without looking, but the flash of colour in your periphery catches your eye, and suddenly all your energy returns with a spark of mischief.  
     It's Sans, in his casual red, black and gold attire that suits him like it would nobody else. You cross paths with him often, coming in and out of the apartment block, and his cold attitude has slowly melted to indifference. He, as is his way, doesn't say much but acknowledges you with a grunt and a nod, stopping beside you to join you in inspecting the sky. You tip your head to look at him.

     "Heading to Hugh's tonight?"

     "Yeah, you too?" His pupils meet yours a moment, almost warily.

     "Of course." You grin.

     You've had this same interaction a good few times since you started working at the bar. He's a little less on-edge each time you talk to him, and humour seems to be the way to get through to the softer side behind the tough-guy mask. But he always chooses to travel alone despite the fact that the start and end points of your journey are the same... and you haven't once managed to beat him there. You don't know how he does it.  
     It's strange to you that he chooses to travel alone. He's pretty much the opposite of you, going out of his way to avoid interactions with people. Maybe he doesn't want the company of humans, but you hope that isn't the case. You decide to find out.

     "Care to accompany me, Mister Red?"

     He looks like he's going to turn you down, but then the frown he constantly wears softens minutely.

     "Why's my company matter to you, sweetheart?"

     You have to think about the answer for a second, sure that if you say the wrong thing he won't join you.

     "...I think travelling with you will be interesting." You step out onto the street and he pauses a moment before taking a slow step to join you. Guess you gave the right answer?

     "Huh. That's not weird at all. I'm still pretty sure you are stalkin' me. I know I'm the very peak of physical appeal, but you could try t'be less obvious about it." He throws you a shit-eating grin and then has to dodge your attempt to shove him with your elbow.

     "You wish!" You return the grin evilly. "Nah, it's just handy that your creepy face scares all the idiot commuters out of the way."

     He makes a noise of offence and you hope you aren't pushing your luck. Talking to him feels like walking on eggshells.

     "'M not creepy, lady." He grumbles lowly, and you search his face hurriedly to check you didn't offend him. His head snaps up and he gives you the most ridiculous crazed expression, baring his teeth and widening his sockets, lifting his clawed hands dramatically. "I'm _terrifyin_ '." He snaps his teeth at you and you yelp and break into laughter as you jump back in mock fear.  
     His deeper rumble joins your unrestrained laugh for just a moment, before falling into silence. He's still smiling.

     You're glad he seems to be warming up to you, even if you notice how he refuses to walk within a meter of you.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     Day whatever of dealing with my idiot neighbour. She's still not afraid. I've been pushing my luck on purpose but she pushes right back just as much. She doesn't startle from anything and takes my attempts at being menacing as a joke. I can bare my teeth and growl all I like, and it just makes her laugh... and I don't mind.  
     It should frustrate the hell outta me that I'm not intimidating to her, but I can't find it in me to be offended. I might be 'creepy' like she says but she's definitely not avoiding my company... and it looks like I'm not avoiding hers either now.

     We walk side by side to the subway, only making conversation occasionally about our plans for the evening or the colour of the sky. I can't believe I'm taking the subway again. I get the feeling that it won't be that bad this time around, though. Since I'm making the journey with Vespa, and she knows the way so much better than I do, it shouldn't be hard to navigate.  
     To a human who grew up in this city, the network of tunnels is her labyrinth, just like the Ruins are Tori's, or the forests of Snowdin are mine.

     As we head down beneath the ground with humans scattering out of my path, she finds her way smoothly and surely in the dim tunnels. I don't care any more that the other humans step aside, since Vespa ends up in front of me to guide us and she's striding along happily, clearly enjoying the sensation of humans shuffling to either side of the tunnel as they see us coming. She keeps looking back, making sure I'm right behind her, which I get a strange little sense of comfort from. At one point she looks over her shoulder and comments quietly how much better it is to travel with me for company.

     "I feel like a movie villain," She snickers. "Being able to part the tide of puny human civilians."

     "You wouldn't see it that way if you had'ta deal with it every day." I reply.

     "Nah. I think I could get used to this." She spreads out her arms to revel in the space around her, grinning widely.

     She is pretty tiny, she must get crushed by everyone around her when she does this alone. It doesn't feel painfully wrong to be avoided now, even when the both of us decide to put on our headphones to block out the screech of the trains and people. Her bright headset makes it so that I couldn't lose her in the crowd even if it didn't dissolve around us. My soul feels warm, watching her.

     She chooses to stand up on the train, hanging her arm casually from a bar near the doors, tapping her foot to her music and giving me some much appreciated space. I sit nearby, watching how the lights flashing past the windows highlight her features at intervals. My attention is drawn down to her soul again. Focusing on it and using my Judge abilities, there's hints of the colours of the souls she's closest to; sparks of orange and spirals of mottled blues, the latter probably inherited from that skinny guy with the Integral soul who hangs around at Hugh's with her sometimes. I'm just being 'creepy' like usual, but it gives me some kind of selfish relief to see that it hasn't lost any more of its light.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     He's staring at you again. So intently focused that he hasn't even realised you've caught him. It's weird how you can sense him doing it. You would think he was just vacantly staring into space, but this is the third or fourth time, and you're sure at this point that he's doing something magic.  
     You felt him doing it before you even turned around; more than a feeling of being watched, more than a subtle tingle of your skin. It's a very specific feeling - a pressure on your chest, like someone were gently running their palms over your sternum from the _inside_. It isn't exactly uncomfortable but it makes you somewhat uneasy all the same. It feels... invasive.

     You return Sans' crimson gaze until he realises he's been caught and looks sheepishly away. You shiver as the pressure fades. And then you keep staring at him - just returning the favour. You haven't had the chance to really look at him since that first time you saw him on the street. Every time you've tried in the past, he has automatically returned your look with a glare, which is rather hypocritical of him at this point.

     You study him. His shoulders are broad and softly sloping, but the heavy fur-lined jacket he often wears doesn't hide the sharp angles of his bones beneath completely. You can see the edge of his clavicle at his neckline and how his vertebrae inexplicably float millimetres apart from each other, reaching up beneath his jaw and disappearing. His skull isn't quite like a human one - his mandible is more sculpted, and larger, probably made that way to house all of those teeth. You keep wanting to ask how he lost the one that has been replaced by gold.  
     You ignore completely that he's glaring at you again and inspect his eye sockets, the way they move enough to give his expressions life. He is more like a living sculpture of a skeleton, almost a caricature with all his features emphasised. Like someone tried to create a skeleton from memory alone. Red huffs heavily and you finally let him be, giggling at how uncomfortable he looks.

–––––

     "...Oh, damn." You squint out at the sky from the cover of the subway exit, pulling your headphones down. Your words are lost to the thunder of torrential rain against the street.

     Red pulls his headphones clear of his skull too and you both silently contemplate your options. It's really not all that far to the bar - not enough to warrant paying for a taxi. But you don't have an umbrella with you, and you're sure the one you have back at home wouldn't even help with this volume of water. You remove your headphones and take your phone from your pocket, stowing them safely out of the rain in your rucksack.

     "Well then. Nothing for it." You shrug.

     Red looks at you like you're insane. "You're just gonna walk?!"

     "You got any better ideas?" You motion to the almost empty street around you.

     "Mug someone for their umbrella? Or better yet, wait for it to stop?" He suggests.

     "No time. I have to get to work!" As you say this, you step out into the downpour and the cold of the rain hits you, forcing a squeal from you as you break into a run. You hear Red saying something about stupid crazy neighbours (like he's one to talk) and turn back to see - to your pleased surprise - that he's following along.

     It takes barely seconds for the rain to soak through around the cuffs and collar of your jacket, and the bottoms of your trousers are sodden from splashing through puddles. Your pace stops you from freezing in the rain, and you laugh breathlessly while Sans curses at you.

     When you make it to the bar, you burst inside and come to a stop leaning against a table to catch your breath. The place is almost empty due to the weather, thankfully. Your neighbour follows you inside, breathing heavily. You guess skeleton monsters can get out of breath too?

     "You're fuckin' crazy, Eight." He pants. You just laugh in response, still recovering. "Shut the fuck up! It's not funny!" He growls roughly. Ooh, scary. Didn't you already decide to make him sound like that more often?

     "You didn't have to follow me, you know."

     "An' I won't next time, that was the worst idea ever had by anyone in this goddamned city." He snaps at you. His brow bone twitches. You try to keep a straight face, despite it being obvious that you aren't even remotely sorry. The two of you lock eyes, like he's daring you to laugh again.

     A drop of rainwater runs comically slowly down the centre of his face and falls into his nasal cavity. He goes wide eyed and then scrubs at his face aggressively while you break down into wild laughter, leaning against the table. Hugh chooses this moment to come out of the back room and stare in confusion at his staff member doubled over in laughter while a customer covers his face and groans in frustration. You wave to him. 

     "Oh, h-hey Hugh!" Your voice is still full of giggles, and Red takes the opportunity to shove you with his shoulder, accompanied by a grunt of annoyance as he moves past you to retreat to his usual booth, defeated and embarrassed. The immature action sends you into another bout of uncontrollable laughter.

     Once you've calmed down enough to get to work wiping down the shelves, Hugh approaches you.

     "You two seem... friendly?" He says quietly, indicating Red's booth.

     "I guess so? I found out he lives next door to me, so he has to put up with me now." You say the last part loud enough that Red can hear you, and he sighs heavily, right on cue. Hugh gives you a look of disbelief and shakes his head. He whispers his reply.

     "Ves. You do know who it is you're messing with, right?"

     "Yeah? He's called Sans, and he's a cool skeleton guy, and... Well. Actually, I don't really know anything else for sure. So what?"

     Hugh's eyes widen.

     " _So what_? You have to be careful about pissing him off, he's..." He lowers his voice even further. "He's dangerous."

     That makes you snort and shake your head. You're well aware of what Red is capable of, and you also know that your neighbour is more afraid of you than you are of him - because a paranoid skeleton with gravity magic isn't as scary as the threat of mundane old human law enforcement, apparently.

     "He really isn't that bad, Hugh. He just looks a bit spooky, and anyway," You raise your voice again. "Sans loves me, ain't that right Seven?" You receive a noncommittal 'fuck off' from across the room, and smile reassuringly at your boss.  
     "Thanks for worrying about me, but just because someone looks scary, doesn't mean they're dangerous. It's the pretty ones you have to look out for." You wink at him, and he palms his face and sighs.

     You're sure Felix is gonna know about Hugh's concerns within a day. Did you mention how much you hate it when people worry about you?

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     I can't help but listen in on their conversation. Human hearing isn't all that sharp, and when they think they're being secretive, they often aren't. Overhearing conversations about how scary or dangerous we are is commonplace by now. But those conversations don't often involve humans sticking up for monsters.

     I think I get it now. I genuinely agree with Hugh on this one; I am dangerous. But she's adamant that she's my buddy, just because she's too brave and stupid to back down. She obviously sees me as some kind of game or challenge - she survived one babybones training-wheels attack from me so she thinks she's tamed the skeleton monster and that I'm just gonna be friends with her. Not a chance. Not even Frisk had it that easy.

     She is _not_ my friend. I gotta teach her not to treat monsters like pets. She's only going to get hurt trying to 'befriend' us with her dumb shiny Kind soul. At some point, sooner or later, she's gonna really piss me off, then I'll end up scaring her away and maybe she'll realise she can't always win.

     I shrug off my soaked jacket and throw it over the back of the booth to dry, wishing I was at Grillby's for once, away from the humans and somewhere where I could get my clothes dry and drink a bottle of mustard without getting weird looks. Somewhere nobody judges me. A shame that it's crawling with Royalists now.

     Everything I'm wearing is damp. _Idiot_. I don't know why I followed Vespa out into the rain like that. I wasn't thinking. It makes me angry at myself now that I'm thinking straight again. I should have waited for it to stop instead. Or I could have just teleported and left her there, but then I'd have to explain the shortcut thing to her... and it's technically illegal.

     I let out a frustrated growl. I was right from the start; she's trouble. And I keep running into her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter? So soon?
> 
> Well, I'm going away for a few weeks, to spend time with someone very dear to me who lives rather far away.  
> I thought I'd try to get some updates out before I go.


	10. Abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moogle Advisory: The clue's in the name for you all - mild physical violence and abuse mentions ahoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A song for this chapter - 'Old Stone' by Laura Marling

     I keep trying to tell myself in my slightly inebriated state I didn't mean to be following her home. It's not my fault. I just felt like walking the trip home tonight rather than taking a shortcut, for some reason.  
     It's nothing to do with me that she has to walk home the same route, or that she finished late tonight, or that I have too much pride to ask to travel with her like she does with me. I keep thinking about how I'm meant to be proving her wrong in her belief that she can befriend me... and how she's got me caught in her net anyway, against my will.  
     So I'm just walking home. Making sure she doesn't notice me. At two in the morning.

     All the while, I keep habitually reaching out with my soul's aura to monitor the streets around us both as we walk. I do it often when I'm out here alone. Nobody can catch me by surprise when I can sense the souls of every living being within a hundred feet of me; the many sleeping humans in nearby buildings. I don't know how she can do it, fragile little thing that she is, bravely trotting along in the dark with only her useless human night vision to guide her, headphones on as usual so she couldn't even hear if someone crept up on her.

     And someone _is_ there.

     We aren't that far from home when my soul field picks up another conscious person aside from Vespa. A sickly looking Justice-yellow soul, hovering in a nearby alleyway. I can tell Vespa's gonna end up passing right by them with the direction she's walking. I feel a growl rising in my throat and have to stop myself from calling out for her to stop before she reaches that other soul. But she can't know I'm here. It's nothing to do with me. Didn't I want to teach her a lesson anyway?

     I'm not worried about her safety. So I stop and wait in the dark.

     I can see her ahead of me, and as she passes under a street light right outside that alleyway, the yellow soul makes its move. It goes straight for her, and a human male steps out of the alley into her path. With my senses stretched like this, I can feel her soul flare in response to the threat, but it isn't fear that she reacts with. It's anticipation. I recognise the familiar flare of that sensation - the voracious desire to fight.

     She pulls down her headphones around her neck, and I can hear her from where I stand in the shadows.

     "Again with you, Michael? What do you want?"

     The yellow soul - 'Michael' apparently - menacingly closes the gap between them. Vespa isn't suitably menaced. Her only movement is to slowly pull her bag from her shoulder and set it surreptitiously behind her on the floor.

     "You didn't give me a chance before, babe, running off like that." Smirks the yellow soul. The flirtatious, fake tone he takes makes my magic spark up. "I've got a present for you, from Sarah." He looks sick, and unpredictable - dangerous for a human. Vespa stands her ground.

     "Oh? I don't want anything from her." She bites back at him with surprising disdain for a Kind soul.  
     Her hands have dropped to her sides and her shoulders are squared in a stance of calm neutrality, and in the moment I can see the similarities between her and the other Kind soul I know; Undyne. A master of words - always full of passion and generosity, but with the capacity to take it all away in a single breath.

     But she isn't Undyne. She's not a warrior at all. _'Get out of there, silly girl.'_ I try to will her to step away with my soul aura. He's bigger and tougher and nastier than her by a long way.  
     No matter that her HP is ten times greater than his, he's got pure, ugly hatred and intent to harm on his side.

     'Michael' lunges at her and the tension breaks, a knife suddenly in his hand. The sight of it sends a sharp phantom pain right through my ribcage in memory of a wound I never received, and I nearly do cry out then, but the attacker doesn't get very far.

     Vespa dodges sideways, dips her body low, grabs her opponent's wrist and pulls his weapon arm towards her, rather than pushing it away. The unexpected action gives her an advantage as he falters, and she swings him harshly to the side, against the corner of the wall.

     He stumbles and rights himself with a rough grunt of pain before lunging for her again, but she's ready. All the while, her soul radiates a pulsing, zealous light. This time, she comes to meet him as he slashes for her, and the knife goes past hardly an inch from her side, catching in her clothes and making me flinch. A second later she puts her shoulder into his chest at full force and _folds_ him at the waist.  
     The impact culminates in an unnerving crunch and a guttural choking noise from Michael. He tips forward, dropping the knife, which skitters away across the floor. Vespa neatly lowers the man onto the ground on his front, where she immediately pins him down with her knee, holding one of his arms behind him at a harsh angle and pushing his forehead against the concrete.

     The defeated human makes a pathetic, pained noise, and I'm almost as stunned as he is by the speed with which he lost. My tiny neighbour is panting, smiling proudly, and her soul is positively singing with the energy of victory. She had moved like she was dancing, with assurance and without anger. I even feel a little proud for her myself. Maybe she isn't so stupid after all.

     Vespa leans in close to Michael's ear and when she talks, her voice is devilish and dripping with dark amusement. It makes me shiver.

     "Listen, now. You can tell Sarah that whatever she thinks she can do to me, you're all going to have to try an awful lot harder than that, and you'd best be able to take the consequences because you will _not_ get away with tormenting me any more. Everything she tried to force on me has made me more resilient than you will ever be.  
     "This is your only warning. I'm not a toy. I have people who actually give a shit about me, I'm not afraid, and if you threaten me again, you'll be behind bars - if you're lucky and nobody else gets to you first... You've already seen one of my new friends, haven't you?"

     She waits for Michael to make a grunt of agreement before continuing her silky-voiced threats.

     "Good." The word is full of venom. "If I asked him nicely, my skeleton sweetheart wouldn't even have to _touch_ you to remove any trace of your nasty existence. And nobody would care. Got it?"

     I just about zone out at this point, my mind caught up in what she just said. When has this other human seen me before? What makes Vespa believe I would do anything for her? What gives her the right to use me as a threat when she hardly knows me? Why had she called me her _sweetheart_? Ugh. She's just trouble that needs to stop. I'm too drunk for this shit, it makes my head hurt.

     I'm not her 'sweetheart' and I definitely wouldn't waste my magic on this wilted buttercup of a soul. He isn't even worth my time. All her threats are obviously complete bluffs, but it still makes me angry.

     Or... is it something else I'm feeling?

     Because damn, I'd be lying if I said I don't want her to carry on using those pet names for me. I run my hand over my face and totally fail to silence all these rampant, uneasy thoughts. She used my terrifying nature as a threat and there's a part of me that's pleased about that. Proud that she chose me. I really shouldn't be around her.

     Movement brings me out of my buzzing mind. She's getting up, with a last word to Michael.

     "Stay down until I'm gone." She warns, before picking up her bag. As she does this, she stills, noticing the single instance of damage caused by her opponent. The cord of her headphones has been cut clean through by Michael's knife. She turns back to him.

     "Oh, for-! These were special edition. Son of a bitch!" She says indignantly, applying a deft, accurate kick to the soft part of the other's stomach, in the spot I've grown so used to exploiting to induce pain in humans without any visible damage. My neighbour turns sharply and continues her homeward journey while her assailant lies whimpering on the ground.

     I don't want to follow any further, still dazed and conflicted, as she habitually makes me feel at this point. The yellow soul rolls onto his back and wheezes in the dirt. He's not even really damaged, the coward. I have an impulse all of a sudden.

     I said I wouldn't waste my magic on this guy. I never said I wouldn't have some fun.

     I blip over to his side and he tenses up like frightened, easy prey. He clearly recognises me somehow. Good. I leer down, eye sockets devoid of light, gold tooth reflecting the street lamp above us. I let my voice resonate around my skull.

     "I tell you what, buddy. You're lucky she can look after herself, or you'd be missin' some of your less-vital parts by now." I wink, and then I'm gone before I can get carried away.

     I wait in the corridor for her, just to be sure she gets home. Suffice to say I'm not quite so concerned about her wandering the streets at night any more. Not that I care what happens to her or... whatever.

     And who is Michael, anyway? How did he recognise me? I can't ask her, since I'd have to explain myself, and I don't even know what drove me to follow her home. What curse of intrigue drives me to keep following the green soul?  
     I keep wondering amongst all the other questions I have about her now; if she hadn't been strong enough to take him on, would I have just watched it happen? I'm grateful I didn't have to make that choice, because I'm sure I would have gotten myself into something I wouldn't have been able to joke my way out of.

     She might be keeping my secret, but that other human sure as hell wouldn't.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✧⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

     You input the code to the apartment block door with your hands still shaking from adrenaline and cold, and take the stairs two at a time, far too energised to wait for an elevator. When you round the corner onto your floor, you jump at the sight of an imposing silhouette leaning against the wall.  
     Wait! Eerie, but somehow comforting glowing eyes - it's just Red. But you're sure you left Hugh's before him...

     He looks about as strained as you feel, and you get the sense that he might have been waiting for you, standing awkwardly in the hall with the glow of his phone screen highlighting his cheek bones in the gloom. He looks up tiredly as you approach, and you hope he'll assume you're just breathless due to the stairs.

     "Damn, Number Seven! How did you beat me home again?" You find your voice shaky and exaggeratedly wrap your arms around yourself to pass it off as cold shivers. Yup. Totally normal. Red scrutinises you for a long moment before his eyes fall back to his phone screen.

     "I'm always gonna beat you home, sweetheart. I got a shortcut." His voice sounds lower than usual, coarser. He smiles, but it doesn't reach his shadowed eye sockets. When he looks up again, he maintains his soft red gaze for longer, quizzical.

     "You alright darlin'?"

     You sigh tiredly.  
     He's not a compete idiot. You could tell him what happened? No. While the conditions of your introduction to each other were unorthodox, and the pet names that should come across as creepy are actually really endearing, he is still just your neighbour. His attitude makes it clear that he doesn't want to be friends. He doesn't need to know why you introduced yourself under a different name when you first met, or why you can defend yourself so well, or why the inside of your door has an emergency old-fashioned steel bolt on it as well as the normal lock.

     "I'm... just tired and cold. Still not used to standing up for so many hours at a time." You laugh hollowly. You don't want to lie, but you don't need anyone worrying about you, and you're sure he's the aggressively protective type if he chooses to involve himself. He squints like he doesn't believe you and pushes away from the wall.

     "If you're sure. I-..." His words trail off, and for a moment he looks more worried than you had felt out on the street a few minutes ago.

     "...I'm around if you need me." That's an unusual sentiment for him. Does your predicament show that obviously on your face? You brush off the feeling that he's seeing straight through you again.

     "Thanks, neighbour. How about I just knock on the wall if I need you?" You tease. He doesn't take it as a joke though. He looks at you intensely, little glowing pupils sharply focussed, and there's a silence that's just a little bit too long.

     "Only if I can do the same with you." The deadly serious tone he uses completely throws you. It feels like he's asking earnestly, from the way his voice enters a dark monotone. The last tumblers fall into place and something clicks in you mind that should have been obvious ever since you found out that he lives next door.

     It isn't him that shouts every evening. You know his reassuring bassy growl. He has never once spoken loudly since you've met him, and you're sure if he did raise his voice he could break glass with the resonance of it. So if he isn't the one yelling, then... that means it must be his housemate - his brother.

     Sans is the one being yelled at.

     An all-too-familiar weight presses down on your lungs and sickness settles into your stomach. You can't help but let your expression fall. This huge, powerful, intimidating skeleton is, to greater or lesser extent, being abused.

     Well shit.

     You feel guilty for not realising sooner, ashamed for assuming that he can handle himself, and angry at this revelation of cruelty happening so close to home. He might be in danger, too blinded by dependence on his brother's presence to realise what's happening. The way he acts tells you everything you need to know - defensive, hiding behind humour or threats, and with an irrational fear of authority.

     You claw yourself out of the panic stirring in your mind to see Red now looking dejectedly at his feet. He turns as if to leave you to your thoughts, and you suddenly, deeply remember the dreaded feeling of crawling back into a barbed cage. You quickly reach out and take his hand to stop him, making him freeze up.  
     His palm is so very warm. It feels wonderful against your still-freezing skin. Every little concave face of the bones in his hand is smooth and warm like freshly-fired clay. You hold tight.

     "If you need anything, Sans, you can come right over. You're welcome in my home whenever you like."

     He tries to say something, but his voice catches in his throat and he is left to look from your entwined hands to your face and back down again. You make a decision in this moment; having had experience with this in your own past, it's your duty to this monster to protect him. Nobody should have to deal with this alone. No matter how intimidating and tough they are.

     You turn to your apartment and head inside, towing your neighbour along behind you. He complies, not trying to let go of your hand or even speak. You lead him to the main room, and when he just stands dazedly after you release him, you put your hands on his shoulders and guide him gently down onto the seat of the sofa. Once you're sure he's stable in his current state of dissociation, you leave him be and head straight over to the kettle. You don't know how he has his tea, but at least you know he can drink, having seen him do so at Hugh's.

     It's a start, right?

     You decide to make his tea the same as your own, picking out a mug with skulls on for your guest. When you bring it to him he still appears lost in his own mind, so you kneel before him to press the mug into his hands, and check him over. His eye-lights have gone blurry and pale; faded out.

     "Seven?" He doesn't react. You put your hands around his where they grip the mug. "Sans?"

     He is slowly released from whatever corner of his mind he was trapped in. His pupils regain some of their colour and condense to focus on your hands clasped around his own. He makes a tiny noise that you translate as some combination of weariness and relief, and shifts one of his hands to try to push your fingers away, which you comply to, giving him a bit more space. He tips his skull forward to inhale the steam from his mug. It drifts up and curls into his eye sockets pleasingly.

     "H-how..?" He seems lost for how to continue his question and tries again. "...t-thanks, Ves." He manages very quietly. Rather than answer, you move to sit beside him with your own mug of tea. You let your shoulder touch his lightly, just so he knows you're there.

     "You okay?" You check. He shakes his head ever so slightly and inches away.

     "Don't touch me." He says blankly, not really there. You choose to respect his space and lean back into the opposite corner of the sofa.

     You join him in absorbing the scented steam rising from the tea, until your hands have warmed and the tea has cooled enough to drink.

     "Could you give me your number?" You request. You offer him your phone and he looks at it, confused and still unsteady from his surprising moment of vulnerability. He doesn't deny you though. Once he taps in his contact details, phalanges clacking percussively on your screen, he returns the handset and you send him a message. He's set his name as 'Red'.

      _ **Vespa | 03:14** \- Oh shit, it's No. 8!  <3_

     He gives a single syllable laugh when he takes out his own phone.

     "You really are an idiot, y'know?" His voice sounds thick with fatigue.

     "People have said so, yeah." You lean a little more towards him again without really thinking, and have to stop yourself. He gives a very long, deep sigh.

     You spend a good ten minutes drinking your tea in silence together, while you enjoy the calming sensation of his company and he likely does the same. When you finish your tea you speak up quietly, wanting to make the most of his currently unguarded behaviour.

     "You know... If you liked, you could walk home with me from now on?"

     He only gives a hum of agreement, sounding more than half asleep. You don't know if you're offering for his sake or yours. The line has become a little blurred, but you'd always prefer to be the one doing the worrying rather than have someone worry about you. This idea works to both of your benefits, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"...and if you swear that you're alright, I'm not gonna try and change your mind, 'cause it's the same night I dream that I'll lose you, I fall in love..."_

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every ten days or so, real life allowing.
> 
> I love answering your comments and questions!


End file.
